


Morgue

by FantasySwap



Series: Morgue [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Kink, Degrading Language, Dom/sub, Dub-con elements, Emotional Manipulation, Homophobic Language, M/M, Murder Mystery, Obsession, Possessive Behaviours, Stalking, alternative universe, dark Diego, detective!diego, kind of, student klaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-11-25 22:05:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasySwap/pseuds/FantasySwap
Summary: He’s probably not wrong, in all fairness, but he had also thought that this case would be a simple in-and-out job. In true Diego Hargreeves fashion, it’s turning out to be a lot more complicated than that.First of all, there’s the boy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Can you do one where Diego feels he has to protect Klaus even if it’s unwanted. Like he’s a yandere and Klaus either has to put up with it and except it in a twisted way or fight against it. But it twist his love for his brother because everyone else ignores him so he just goes with it instead. All the siblings notice their unhealthy/twisted relationship and even try to talk them out of it but it’s too late and their in too deep._
> 
> That was the prompt... ok so it didn’t turn out like this exactly? I hope you like how it turns out either way! I promise it’ll get more similar to the prompt as it goes on! XD

The case is an interesting one. Diego had thought, when he’d first been relocated to this sleepy, backwater village, that the people would all be sleepy, local types who glare at the newcomer out of the corners of their eyes and mutter things about him behind his back. He’s probably not wrong, in all fairness, but he had also thought that this case would be a simple in-and-out job. In true Diego Hargreeves fashion, it’s turning out to be a lot more complicated than that.

 

First of all, there’s the boy.

 

Diego has met a lot of different people in his career so far: being a police officer, whilst rewarding, is not without its downsides and Diego has been on the wrong end of a gun or a knife more times than he can count. He’s met murderers and pedophiles and rapists and a plethora of other criminals he’s had to put away. No one has ever fascinated him like this boy manages to, though, just by sitting across the interrogation room across from Diego and not saying anything.

 

He’s pretty, Diego supposes, in a twinky, feminine way. With long, soft looking brown hair and big green eyes Diego is only a little ashamed to admit to the way his breath faltered when he first saw him, the way his mind instantly provided pictures of the boy on his knees in front of him, pretty pink lips parted and tongue out.

 

His picture in the police file really doesn’t do him justice. In all fairness he’s sporting a nasty looking black eye in that that he doesn’t have now, but there’s still a few subtle differences. He’s sharper in real life, sharp in a way that the other inhabitants of this town aren’t. Like maybe he doesn’t belong here. Like maybe he and Diego are alike.

 

Klaus, his name is. Diego wants to ask if he’s German, but it doesn’t say anything about that in his file and he can’t appear to be too interested. He takes the seat opposite Klaus and steeples his fingers together, resting his chin on his hands.

 

“Hello Klaus,” He starts. “I’m Diego.”

 

In reality, he has no idea why he’s here, why either of them are here. In theory he knows - there was a murder, and a bad one at that - but in practise none of it really makes any sense. Why send Diego to a tiny, rural village where a satanic murder case is the most interesting thing to happen to them in decades, and the prime suspect is a seventeen year old school kid called _Klaus_?

 

Diego should be in the city, helping prevent crime where the crime is thickest. He can’t help but resent this town and its inhabitants, just a little, and he hopes it doesn’t show on his face when he talks to Klaus.

 

Klaus is dressed in a pair of tight black jeans and an overflowing, soft sweater that he seems to be drowning in. He looks so pretty, like he’s all dressed up in his father’s clothes or something, and Diego wants to pet him like a fucking kitten. When he tilts his chin defiantly to meet Diego’s gaze, he levels him with a look so scornful that Diego can’t repress a smile.

 

“Not a fan of talking, huh?” Diego continues, content to lead the conversation. Klaus looks about as dangerous as a bunny rabbit, and Diego just wants to go home to his quaint little cottage that the police academy provided him with. He needs a drink, or six.

 

“That’s okay, I can talk for you for a while. But I am going to need you to answer some questions. Okay?” A muscle in Klaus’ jaw ticks and, bizarrely enough, his cheeks flush a light pink colour. Diego is grinning lopsidedly, predatorily, before he realises what he’s doing and schools his features into something more appropriate.

 

“Listen.” Diego tries again. Klaus’ elbow rests on the table and he cups his chin with long, slender fingers, fingertips resting just on his bottom lip. Diego wonders if he’s doing it on purpose. “I don’t want to be here anymore than you do. I just wanna go home and get drunk and go to sleep, okay? It’s been a long day. I’m sure we’re both tired. Just tell me what we need to know, and then we can all go home. Deal?”

 

Diego has no clue whether he’s being listened to or not and if he is then that’s going to sound really fucking unprofessional, but what can they do? If they decide to send him back to the city then that’s good– that’s what he wants.

 

Klaus still doesn’t reply, but he tilts his head, considering, like he’s trying to figure Diego out. Like maybe he’d been expecting something else entirely, and now that’s been subverted he has to reevaluate everything.

 

“I’m going to read off a list of facts. Then I’m going to ask questions.” Diego repeats, voice steely and tough. “And then you’re going to tell me what I want to know. Understood?”

 

Klaus, after a hesitant pause, inclines his head just slightly at this newfound insistence. Something primal and animalistic in Diego rears up, makes him want to demand better than a non verbal answer from the pretty boy in front of him. He can’t always control his impulses and the thought of bending this kid over, forcing his head into a pillow or his ass up off the ground until he’s crying and pleading and _polite_ , is getting Diego a little distracted.

 

There’s something else as well. A little glimmer of doubt that flickers behind Klaus’ eyes, perhaps, or the way he swallows and bows his neck at Diego’s authoritative voice. It makes Diego want to hold him up by the scruff of his neck.

 

Ultimately he decides not to push it. He’s making progress with Klaus, which is apparently further than the other detectives have gotten.

 

“On Friday 12th February, a week ago today, David Graham was found murdered at his home. Cause of death was blood loss. He lived alone, and your fingerprints were all over the scene. Care to tell me how that happened?” Diego’s eyes flicker upwards to take in Klaus’ reaction: the majority of primary deductions can be made judging on the person’s first reactions.

 

But Klaus is good– he barely blinks as he takes Diego’s monologue. Obviously it’s not new information to him, but in most people there would at least be some sort of reaction: horror or disgust or anger at being accused. Klaus’ face is a carefully constructed, blank mask, obviously designed to hide something or other. Diego sighs, impressed despite himself. He can’t remember what he was doing aged seventeen. Smoking weed and fucking everything that moved, probably.

 

“Okay…” He acquiesces. “Why don’t you start by telling me if you knew the victim?”

 

“Yeah,” Klaus speaks for the first time, almost startling Diego at the unexpectedness of it. His voice suits him somehow: light and breathy and full of sorrow. When he talks, the words come out faraway and distant like he’s addressing someone much further away than Diego. “I knew Dave.”

 

“Good,” Diego praises him, eyes lighting up in curiosity at the way Klaus’ cheeks flush a little more and he jerks his head in the other direction to scowl, angrily, through the double sided glass. It’s only belated professionalism that stops him from saying, “good boy.”

 

“You gonna tell me how you know him?” Diego asks, softening his tone a little when he sees a flash of hurt on Klaus’ face. This is still just a kid, he reminds himself. A kid who has somehow gotten himself wound up in a murder investigation, but a kid nonetheless. Diego doesn’t need to go so harsh on him; besides, all the other detectives from around here are pretty much convinced of Klaus’ guilt anyway. Being nice to him would be a great big ‘fuck you’ to them.

 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Klaus says suddenly, staring directly at him. It’s the first time he’s had all of Klaus’ attention focused solely on him, and he can’t decide whether he likes it or is unnerved by it. He blinks at the question, biting the inside of his mouth to keep from replying too soon. Hotheadedness is probably what got him banished to the countryside for this case in the first place.

 

“No,” Diego tells him evenly. “I’m from New York.”

 

“New York.” Klaus whistles, and it’s such an out-of-place sound that Diego can’t stifle a snort. “What’s it like? Better than here, I’m guessing.”

 

That’s a nice way of saying that this village is a fucking nightmare, like something out of The Wicker Man, Diego thinks with a bitter hint of resentment.

 

“Yeah,” he says eventually, figuring its worth a try if it’ll increase the sense of respectful solidarity between them. “It’s better than here. But then I can’t imagine many places would be worse than here.”

 

This surprises a half laugh out of Klaus: the corners of his mouth turn up suddenly and for just a split second he’s beaming at Diego, the full force of it like looking directly into the sun. He’s blindingly gorgeous and stunning and incredible, and it leaves Diego breathless and wanting and hard under the table.

 

“You know,” he continues. “They think I’m into devil worship. The people here.”

 

Diego nods slowly, neither encouraging or discouraging him from saying more. This isn’t really what he’s here to discuss, but first and foremost he’s a detective and if this is going to be potentially useful for his case then he isn’t going to stop it.

 

“Are you?” He prompts. Klaus smiles again, but this time his lips twist upwards in a sick parody of a grin, more like a grimace. It’s still devastatingly beautiful, but a different kind: the kind that makes Diego want make Klaus cry out with pain rather than pleasure.

 

“I don’t have an alibi for that night, Diego.” He says eventually, once again ignoring Diego’s question, keeping him on his toes. “I was at home, alone, all night. I don’t have an alibi, so unless you’re going to arrest me I’d like to leave.”

 

Diego doesn’t think he can be imagining the emphasis on ‘all night’. He leans across the table, hoping he doesn’t look too much like a wild animal. His voice is low and gravelly, turned on, when he says, “What were you doing?”

 

Klaus seems surprised, taken aback by his eager interest, and okay. Diego can’t have been as subtle as he’s thought, because there is no mistaking the way Klaus’ eyes flutter between staring at Diego’s eyes and then his lips with a sense of excitable curiosity. There can’t be many openly gay guys in a village like this, Diego thinks, making that assumption about Klaus straight away. Klaus will have had to hide his true self away from the public for so long: Diego wonders if he’s a virgin, if he’s ever had another man’s cock inside him before, if in another life Diego could be his first.

 

Once again, Klaus doesn’t answer, but when he presses away from the interrogation table and stands up to leave, he throws one last questioning stare over his shoulder. It’s as much proof as Diego needs: he has no clue whether or not Klaus is guilty, but he knows for a fact that he’s one lonely, bored teenage boy.

 

Lonely, bored teenage boys are Diego’s speciality, and he thinks he just found himself a new beau.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention last chapter, I got some of the inspiration for this from this clip [here](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SbJ6UWi4j_U&t=17s) so go check it out if you want! <3

Diego thinks Eudora Patch might be the best thing about his new job. They aren’t friends and they don’t talk outside of work hours, but she doesn’t take anyone’s shit and when the other cops try and give Diego a hard time for letting Klaus go she yells at them so aggressively about legal requirements and citizens’ rights that no one dares look her in the eye for an hour afterwards.

 

It’s been a few days - Diego has filled his time with reading up on everyone that has a record in this town and watching ‘Friends’ reruns on his shitty little TV. There are only about thirty people on file and most of them only have parking tickets or disorderly conduct fines, so it doesn’t take him very long to finish reading. There’s no one that seems like they’d be capable of… what? Making a ritual sacrifice? ‘Dave’s’ body had been spread eagled on the floor, neck slit from ear to ear with flickering candles placed at the point of each limb. The police are mystified.

 

Klaus’ file is a little different, though, and Diego feels himself growing more and more intrigued with every new fact he reads.

 

Klaus was adopted by a Mr and Mrs Snow - he was born in Germany like Diego had suspected - and his record is littered with infractions dating back to when he was thirteen years old. Caught with drugs in school, fighting… minor offences are scattered all over his record. Interestingly enough, the people he’d been fighting with hadn’t been reprimanded for it.

 

He finds Eudora in the station’s kitchen, gingerly eating a sandwich and scrolling through her phone. She smiles tightly; usually Diego wouldn’t try to instigate conversation with her but today is different. Today, Diego wants information.

 

“Hey,” He starts, leaning his back against the counter. She smiles, a little confused. “You busy?”

 

“No, no.” She shakes her head, putting her sandwich down and turning bodily towards Diego. “What’s up? How are you adjusting to country life?” She smirks a little self depreciatively when she says this, like she’s acknowledging the weirdness of her home town and mocking herself for it. Diego respects her for that.

 

“I’m managing. It’s… different.” Diego says in return, gripping the edge of the counter tightly to stop himself from fidgeting, to demand information out of her, the reason he’s actually here.

 

“I can imagine.” She says, not unkindly. “And the case?”

 

“That’s actually kind of why I’m here.” Diego rubs the back of his neck, flashing her what he hopes is a bashful grin and breathing a sigh of relief that he won’t have to wait any longer making awkward small talk. “I was wondering if you could give me some extra information on Klaus? It didn’t really say much in his file.”

 

She frowns, pushing herself away from the counter and crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Her heels clack intimidatingly on the tile floor and Diego swallows, clenches his jaw, fights the urge to square up to a potential enemy.

 

“You let Klaus go.” She points out. This is true, but not for any particularly good reason. Diego had been tired and had a migraine coming on, and Klaus had been so fucking pretty that Diego physically couldn’t have sat in the room with him for any longer without making a move. Still, he manages to bluff his way through an excuse.

 

“We couldn’t have kept him without evidence.” He points out, proud to note than he doesn’t sound like his hackles are raised at all. Patch nods in resigned agreement at this, dropping the confrontational stance to assess Diego instead.

 

“Well what do you want to know?” She asks. _Everything_ , Diego doesn’t say, because whilst part of him does want to find out on behalf of the case - Klaus’ prints had been all over the scene, and his refusal to talk was pretty telling - he also wants to know for himself. He wants to know what grade Klaus is in and what he wants to do after he graduates and who he’s friends with and what he does in his spare time and is he’s ever had a boyfriend before.

 

Diego wonders if he has a boyfriend _now_. The thought sends a jealous half-shiver down his spine. Diego would be better for Klaus than any closeted high school jock could ever hope to be: he’d kiss him deeper, fuck him better, make him come harder than any seventeen year old could even try to. Of course he can’t say any of this to Patch, so instead he shrugs.

 

“Anything you know.” He tells her amiably, like he’s not really bothered either way. It couldn’t be further from the truth. “It could all help with the investigation, right?”

 

Patch nods, heads towards the door and spins on her heel before she reaches the exit, turning back to speak to him.

 

“I don’t have time to talk about it now. I’m pretty busy.” She tells him. This is the biggest fucking lie Diego has ever heard. “Come to the bar after work - about seven? I’ll tell you whatever you want to know then.”

 

This does not suit Diego very well - he’d been planning to go home and jerk off to Klaus’ picture and smoke himself empty - but he supposes if it’s in the name of business he can fit it into his busy schedule. He’s about to ask which bar Eudora means when he realises there’s only one in this god forsaken town.

 

“Great,” He says to an empty room. “Fucking fantastic.”

 

***

 

The bar is, of course, just like everything else in this place. It’s small, dingy and full of old people; the lights are so dim that Diego almost trips himself up twice on his way from the entrance to where Eudora is sitting already, nursing a pint of beer. She looks up when Diego takes a seat next to her, nudging a separate glass towards him. Diego prefers sweet things, but beer is fine for now. He hopes he won’t be staying long anyway.

 

“So,” Eudora starts, getting right into it. “Klaus, huh?”

 

“He’s your main suspect isn’t he?” Diego replies smoothly, not missing a beat. Her attempt to catch him out was fairly pathetic but he admires her resilience. He has to give her kudos for at least trying, since it’s more than anyone else ever tried to do back in New York.

 

“He’s a kid,” Eudora replies stonily, but at Diego’s doubtful expression she shrugs and softens a little. “He’s… been through a lot. No one wants it to be him.”

 

Diego doubts this a lot; the way the guys were acting around him at the station made him think that they’d very much have liked him to arrest Klaus on the spot. He doesn’t say any of this, because Eudora is already continuing.

 

“He’s a bit of a loner - we’ve contacted his school to see if they can tell us if he hangs out with anyone, but we don’t have high hopes. Klaus has never been the most sociable person.” Diego swallows, and struggles to feel guilty that his first thought was, ‘good.’

 

Klaus is so gorgeous though, so sensual and sexual and submissive with his soft looking lips and pretty eyes that Diego finds it hard to believe that he’s a loner. How come he isn’t batting off guys wherever he goes? Diego can’t be the first person to want to see this kid on his knees.

 

“Here.” Patch slides him a sheet of paper with almost indiscernible scribbles written all over it. Diego’s heart pounds as he takes it, glances over it briefly to see Klaus’ name a few times along with some underlining and exclamation marks. He finds himself excited to get home so he can read this.

 

Eudora hesitates for a moment, almost seeming reluctant to leave, and Diego isn’t naive enough to believe she just enjoys his company that much. His fingertip circles lightly around the edge of his glass as he waits for her to say whatever it is she obviously wants to say.

 

“There are some people,” she starts eventually, not looking at him when she speaks. “That just want to arrest anyone so that this case can be closed. Klaus is a good kid, detective Hargreeves. Don’t be one of those people.” She downs the rest of her drink in an impressive show of resilience and leaves without another word.

 

Those words reverberate around Diego’s head for a long time afterwards. _Good_ _kid_ , he thinks, mouth dry with want. He knocks back the last few dregs of his beer with a grimace and wonders how long it would take him to corrupt Klaus’ innocence, how long it would take to turn ‘good kid’ Klaus into something darker and dirtier.

 

It’s testimony for how fucking small this town is, then, that when he stands up and steps backwards to tuck his stool under the bar he literally bumps into the one person he’s been thinking about all night.

 

Klaus looks just as gorgeous as Diego remembers - even more so, in the low, orange, glowing lights of the pub. He’s dressed in a long, billowy, white t-shirt that’s practically fucking see through - Diego can see his nipples through the fabric, the tease - and a skinny, bright green pair of trousers. Diego giving him an appreciative once over is so obvious that there’s no way Klaus can miss it. He’s holding two glasses of something alcoholic; he considers saying something about him being underage but he thinks about the irony of wanting to supply Klaus with alcohol until he’s soft and pliant, and decides not to. When he sees Diego, he places them down on the bar.

 

“Diego,” He says politely, his voice just as soft and precious as Diego recalls. “Nice to see you again. How’s the investigation going?”

 

A voice in the back of Diego’s head that sounds an awful lot like his father says, ‘insolent child’, but the rest of Diego - body and mind - flares up with arousal. Klaus talking back to Diego is a Klaus that makes Diego want to snap, drag him forwards by his hair as he bends him over the bar right here in front of everybody.

 

“I don’t think I’m allowed to share that information with you.” Diego tells him, ever the gentleman. Klaus’ eyes dart down to the paper on the counter, must come to rest on his own name hastily scrawled down and the words, ‘satanic positioning’, because his mouth twists into a bitter sneer to hide the hurt - the panic - in his eyes. It’s painfully obvious to Diego, but maybe that’s because he feels so in tune with Klaus’ emotions.

 

“Speak of the devil, huh?” Klaus snarks, lifting an arm past Diego to try and pick up his glasses again. Diego is reaching out on instinct, years of training meaning his reflexes are sharp and lightening quick, before he realises what he’s doing. He encircles Klaus’ tiny wrist and holds it so tightly he can feel the tiny bones grinding together under the soft skin. Klaus freezes, tries once unsuccessfully to yank his arm out of Diego’s grip but gives up pretty quickly when he realises he has no chance.

 

Diego, for his part, has no idea what he’s doing. He had reacted on years of instinctual danger, fair enough, but why hasn’t he let go yet? If this was New York somebody would have spotted him by now and would probably on the phone already to his superior officer, reporting him for police brutality.

 

Klaus does none of that. Klaus is so good, so good holding so still for Diego, he wants to croon. He looks up at Diego from under his eyelashes, swallows slowly so that Diego can see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He’s gorgeous like this: unmoving and afraid, so docile that Diego has to pull him closer,

 

“I’m here with my parents.” Klaus tells him, quiet but insistent. For some reason that turns Diego on more than he had thought possible. The idea of Klaus not wanting his parents to see the way Diego fucking _dominates_ their son.

 

“Then don’t make a fuss, hmm?” Diego hums lowly, causally, so close that his lips are brushing the shell of Klaus’ ear. Klaus’ eyes flutter - only for a second before he’s pulling himself back together - but it’s enough to tell Diego what he wants to know. What he already knows.

 

“They tell me you’re a ‘good kid’.” Diego keeps talking, intoxicated by the way Klaus’ wrist feels in his hand, the way he knows there will be bruises there tomorrow, a lasting reminder of Diego’s claim on him. “Is that true? Are you a good boy, Klaus?”

 

Diego surges forward, pushing his face into the side of Klaus’ face, his hair. He inhales deeply: Klaus smells like shampoo and coffee and teenage boy, and Diego is fucking drunk on it.

 

He lets go of Klaus just as quickly as he had grabbed him. Klaus, lost without Diego’s control, fucking _stumbles_ and it’s hands down the cutest thing Diego has ever seen. He catches Klaus in his arms before the kid can face-plant, steadies him, looking every bit the helpful police officer to anyone looking. Only the smirk he levels at Klaus tells otherwise.

 

Klaus rubs his wrist, cheeks blazing, still looking a little dazed. His eyes settle on a point over Diego’s shoulder, and Diego follows his gaze to see a middle aged man and woman sitting at a table near the entrance. His parents, then. Neither of them look concerned about their son’s whereabouts, and Diego watches Klaus swallow his disappointment. Interesting.

 

“See you around, Klaus.” Diego promises with a dark smile, holding the drinks out for the boy to take. Klaus doesn’t look him in the eye as he takes them, but it’s okay. He’s flustered and confused and probably very turned on, probably hating himself for being so turned on. Diego can excuse him for that, this time.

 

He brushes past Klaus without another word, and feels the kid’s eyes on him the whole way out.


	3. Chapter 3

There’s only one high school in the entire town, a large, prison-like building that is so grey and depressing that Diego gets a migraine just looking at it, and despite all this there are still only around one thousand pupils. They filter inside like drones, grey faced and miserable just like the place they’re entering. Diego can hardly remember his high school days, but he’s sure they were just a little more exciting than these seem to be.

 

Jesus, no wonder everyone here is so fucking boring with this start to life. They have the individuality beaten out of them through matching drab uniforms and abstinence lessons in place of sex ed. Diego is suddenly absurdly grateful that Klaus seems to have escaped that particular fate and does, in fact, have some personality left. Diego doesn’t think he’s being biased when he decides that Klaus is by far the most interesting person in this school.

 

“Ah, Detective Hargreeves.” The headmaster, a short, stout man with a bald head and a weak handshake, greets him at the entrance. “We got your colleague’s email: of course, we’re more than happy for you to come in and ask a few questions for the good of the investigation. Very rare that these things happen here, you know, it’s best that they’re nipped in the bud. Hopefully this will give the children an opportunity to see law enforcement at its best.”

 

Diego smiles thinly and refuses the urge to wipe his hand on his shirt— it feels greasy and clammy and gross, but he doesn’t want to offend this man so quickly. He still needs his cooperation.

 

“Thank you. I’ll only need to speak to few students, a few teachers maybe. I won’t take up much of your time.” Diego replies civilly, already craning his neck to see if he can pick Klaus out of the robotic crowd heading towards them ominously. The inside of the school is just as depressing as the outside; it doesn’t help that the corridors are painted a viciously bright orange. It doesn’t do anything to cheer people up, it just makes Diego’s eyes ache and by the downtrodden look on the students’ faces, they feel the same way.

 

The man - Diego should have remembered his name, it would probably have come in handy, but there’s no way to ask now without seeming rude - leads Diego to his office, hastily tidying up his desk with an embarrassed expression. Diego hopes his disgust doesn’t show on his face.

 

“Stay in here for as long as you need, Detective. Is there any way I can help? Anything at all—”

 

“Klaus Snow.” Diego interrupts him, worried what he will say if he has to listen to this man warble on for another five minutes even. Struggling to get his tone back under control, he smiles pleasantly. “I’d like to speak to Klaus Snow first, if that’s possible.”

 

The headmaster presses his lips together, the skin around his eyes wrinkling profoundly. He looks like he just smelt something really bad, and Diego’s heart thuds painfully. If this asshole has anything bad to say about Klaus then he’s about to say it to the wrong fucking person.

 

Thankfully, he doesn’t. He just nods agreeably and wrings his hands nervously, making for the desk again. Diego leans backwards to avoid coming into contact with him again, and he hopes it isn’t too obvious.

 

He presses a button on a phone intercom system thing - Diego has no fucking clue what it does, but it looks like it’s been time warped straight out of the eighties - and there’s a crackle and a burst of static.

 

“Mr Jenkins,” the head laughs unnecessarily after every sentence. “Could you please excuse Klaus from this morning’s biology lesson and send him to my office? Thank you so much.”

 

There’s a vague affirmative sound from the other end and then silence; the man nods once at Diego, makes some bullshit excuse about being busy and exits. He shuts the door behind him, and Diego is relieved to see that he leaves the key in the lock. He gets up quickly, gravitates to the window and looks left and right before feeling secure enough to close the blinds. His heart slips, palms sweaty on their own now: he’s going to be alone in a locked, enclosed room with Klaus with no one watching for the first time since he met him.

 

Diego is reclining in the principle’s chair, legs extended and feet crossed on the man’s desk, by the time the door swings open uncertainly and Klaus slips inside. He’s clearly taken aback to see Diego sitting in front of him instead the headmaster, but he covers his surprise pretty well, all things considered. He stares intently at his feet for a couple of seconds before swallowing, setting his jaw and closing the door behind him.

 

Klaus stands with his back against the door for a moment, just watching Diego watch him. Diego hasn’t moved at all since Klaus came in, and he watches with pleasure as Klaus blushes pretty pink in response to his raised eyebrow.

 

He sidles closer cautiously like Diego might try and ambush him, eventually deciding that he’s safe enough to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. He sits ramrod straight with his fingers interlinked on the surface in front of him. Diego inhales slowly, surely, before letting the breath out in a tired whoosh of air and swings his legs over the desk so that he’s standing now. Klaus’ shoulders stiffen automatically and he follows Diego’s movements with his eyes, never once turning his head.

 

“Diego,” He grits his teeth like it physically pains him to get the word out. Diego grins. “I thought you already— didn’t you already… _do_ this. You already interrogated me.”

 

“I didn’t really, though, did I?” Diego smirks, circling round the edge of the desk slowly like a vulture and coming to a slow standstill directly behind Klaus’ chair. He tenses but doesn’t try and turn around, instead burning holes with his state into the opposite wall. Good boy, Diego wants to say.

 

“I let you go. You looked so…” Diego runs a single fingertip over the line of Klaus’ shoulders, back and forth tantalisingly. “Cute, and I felt sorry for you, and let you go. You still haven’t thanked me for that, you know.”

 

Diego leans forward and places his hands on the desk on either side of Klaus, effectively caging him in. He tilts his head and leans in, brushing his nose against Klaus’ exposed neck and inhaling. Klaus shivers, and Diego hopes the boy can feel the way he grins against his skin.

 

“Thank you.” Klaus’ voice is a barely-there whisper, brittle and frightened and excited all at once. Diego hums against his neck, rubbing his stubble against the soft skin there just enough to have Klaus tilting his head in the opposite direction to give Diego more space to work with. He has him in the fucking palm of his hand, right where he wants him.

 

“Are you ready to talk now? Gonna answer my questions?” Diego hums, resting his chin on the top of Klaus’ head, against his soft curls. He has to admit, the kid makes the drab uniform work: in black slacks, a button up white shirt and a long, thin, black and green tie Diego is having a hard time keeping his hands off him. He wants to wind that tie around his hand and lead Klaus around with it, wants to rip the buttons of the shirt, wants to fuck the good-boy-school-kid out of him until he’s desperate and whining like a whore.

 

“That depends on the questions.” Klaus has the cheek to reply. Diego ducks back to his neck to graze his teeth along the skin there sharply, a warning. Goosebumps pop up all around the area before Diego has even pulled away.

 

“Where were you between seven and nine pm on February 12th?” Diego asks. He can feel Klaus shaking underneath him, vibrating with anxiety or desire, he isn’t sure. All he knows is that he wants the kid to keep doing it.

 

“I don’t remember.” Klaus brazen, voice light and airy like he’s answering a casual question about the weather rather than a murder investigation. Diego’s hand flies up to grip the back of his neck with sudden, bruising strength. Klaus gasps at the contact; his whole body jerks but he can’t go far due to Diego’s hold on him.

 

“Bullshit.” Diego growls into his ear.

 

“I was out!” Klaus cries out, needy and pleading. “I took a fucking walk, okay!”

 

“Who with?” Diego barks, still holding Klaus’ by the scruff of his neck.

 

“No one.”

 

“Where did you go?”

 

“I don’t remember.” Diego let’s out a frustrated groan and slides his hand up from Klaus’ neck to his head, tangling his fingers in the boy’s hair and pulling it backwards so sharply that tears gather in Klaus’ eyes.

 

“So what you’re telling me,” Diego enunciates each word carefully, purposefully. “Is that you have no alibi and no witnesses. Sounds to me like you’re just a lying bitch, huh?” It isn’t really phrased as a question but it’s clear that he’s expecting an answer from Klaus, and a good one at that.

 

The room is silent save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock and Klaus’ harsh, laboured breathing. Slowly, in a small voice, he says, “I don’t think you’re allowed to say that, detective.”

 

So baby’s got backbone, Diego thinks to himself. Time to change tactics. He releases Klaus’ hair and pets his head a few times, thumbs the spot on the kid’s neck that he bit as though to smooth the irritated skin. He circles back round Klaus’ chair until he can hop up onto the desk, sit with his legs spread on either side of Klaus’ chair. From there, he’s close enough to sway forward, use the pad of his thumb to wipe away the escaped tears.

 

“You’re right.” Diego hums softly, a complete contrast to how he’d previously sounded. “I shouldn’t have said all those mean things, huh?” Klaus swallows and shakes his head; Diego follows the elegant curve of Klaus’ cheekbone down to his jaw, nudging his face upwards with a finger under his chin.

 

“No,” he agrees, moving to cup Klaus’ face with both hands instead. Klaus is even more exceptionally gorgeous like this, with tears running down his face and his bottom lip trembling sadly.

 

“It’s just… a little disappointing.” Diego sighs, like he’s admitting some big secret. He’s proud of himself that he knows exactly what to say to push Klaus’ buttons having only met him twice already. “When you lie to me like that. I’m disappointed.”

 

 _Disappointed_ _in_ _you_ , goes unsaid, but Diego knows Klaus hears it. Knows it from the way Klaus’ breathing hiccups and stutters, the way his eyes well up with unshed tears again and he looks so ashamed of himself that Diego wants him desperately.

 

“Which is a shame, isn’t it, because I know you can be so much better. I know you can be a good boy, you just don’t want to be, is that right? Don’t want to be a good boy for me?” Diego particularly enjoys the way Klaus’ tears feel when they drip into his palms.

 

Klaus shakes his head. “No!” He protests weakly. “I do.”

 

There’s a beat of silence. Diego knows that Klaus wasn’t expecting those words to actually come out of his mouth, and if he says anything else now he might push too hard and scare Klaus off. He has to let the kid work through his sexually repressed, emotionally stunted feelings on his own.

 

‘On his own’ being used loosely. Diego has every intention of working through Klaus’ sexual repression alongside him, but in order for that to happen Klaus has to admit to himself that he wants it. Diego knows he wants it.

 

“I’m sorry.” Klaus says at last, eyes closed.

 

“S’okay,” Diego sighs, like this is all a great inconvenience. He strokes Klaus’ cheek with the backs of his fingers and kisses the tip of his nose. “How did you know Dave?”

 

This time when Diego asks, Klaus doesn’t even tense up or hesitate. He’s all loose limbed and easy, willing to do whatever Diego asks of him, and he hates that he’s going to have to send the kid back to class like this where any asshole could take advantage of him.

 

“He was a friend of my parents. He and my dad were in the army together. He’d come to our house for dinner sometimes.” Klaus admits, eyes fluttering open. Diego is close enough that he can see Klaus’ pupils, like black moons.

 

“You were friends?” Diego asks, jealousy flashing past in a hot possessive rush. The son of a bitch is dead, Diego reminds himself.

 

“Sure.” Klaus shrugs, not really an answer. Diego relaxes, even though this is information that he could probably have gotten from anywhere. In a town this small everybody knows everybody, and he’s sure it isn’t some big secret that Dave was friends with Klaus’ parents. But it’s the fact that Klaus is volunteering this information to Diego willingly, wants to be a good boy so bad that he’ll do anything Diego tells him to. It’s fucking hot, and it’s enough for today.

 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Diego tells him, reaching out to trail a palm down his arm, over the crook of his elbow down to his delicate wrist and his hand. There’s a ring of bruises around his wrist in the shape of Diego’s fingerprints.

 

“This is pretty.” Diego comments idly, cupping Klaus’ hand in his own and stroking the ring around Klaus’ thumb. It’s a plain black band, thin and delicate just like the boy himself, but it suits him wonderfully. Again, it’s a little stamp of his own identity over the facade of the monotonous school kid costume that everyone here seems to be wearing.

 

“Thank you.” Klaus replies instantaneously, so well trained already. Diego slides off the desk and digs his thumbs into Klaus’ shoulders, his neck, trying to loosen the knot of tensed muscle there. Klaus makes a small, happy noise - like a moan, Diego’s brain unhelpfully supplies, but not.

 

“C’mon then.” Diego sighs. “Time to get you back to class.”

 

It’s awful, leading Klaus out of the office like he doesn’t want to pull the kid back in, kiss the dazed expression off his face. He still has other people to interrogate though, so he watches Klaus disappear around the corner, walking shakily like he might float off at any given time.

 

Diego really doesn’t have the strength to meet with many other people after that. He has three different pupils in after that, all of them in classes with Klaus, and learns next to nothing. He really isn’t thinking about the potential benefits of alienating Klaus from his classmates even further when he asks them what they think of the boy.

 

“He’s… kind of weird.” One girl says. “He always sits on his own. He used to talk to himself a lot when we were kids. He doesn’t have many friends.”

 

The others all say similar things, and Diego realises that no one actually knows him. Diego, who has met the boy a grand total of three times, probably knows him better than these kids who have grown up with him for seventeen years. He gives up on students after that, moves on to teachers.

 

“If you ask me,” Klaus’ history teacher, a middle aged woman with greying hair and thick, slanted glasses leans in and whispers melodramatically. “There’s something wrong with that boy. Bad blood - no fault of his parents, naturally. He’s just not right.” Diego grits his teeth and listens and struggles not to storm out of the room angrily.

 

This, depressingly enough, is what most of Klaus’ teachers have to say. Diego is ready to give it all up and go home when Mr Jenkins, Klaus’ biology teacher whose lesson Diego had interrupted, enters. He’s youngish, with dark hair and a bright smile. He greets Diego with a firm handshake, and it’s a refreshing change.

 

“Detective Hargreeves,” He says. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Likewise.” Diego lies, straightening some papers as though he’d actually prepared a list of questions before he came here. Diego is great at what he does, but fuck if he’s professional about it.

 

“Klaus, hmm.” Jenkins thinks about it after Diego poses the question to him. “I’m not sure. He’s a quiet boy. Smart, always gets his work done on time. Not much of a troublemaker, though.” It’s the first positive review Diego has heard about Klaus since Eudora said he was a ‘good kid’.

 

“He never showed any signs of violent behaviour?” Diego asks. “His record mentioned a few… fights.”

 

Jenkins sighs. “Listen, Detective. If you ask me, people tend to pick fights with Klaus because he’s different. He always has been. High school is difficult enough, but in a town like this… different isn’t a good thing. If you’re asking me whether I think Klaus is capable of murder, the answer is no.”

 

Diego thinks about this answer on his way out of the office, out of the school. So far he’s heard a lot of mismatching views about Klaus and his integrity, his ability to commit murder. He needs a drink, or five, and it worried him how his first thought is to go to the pub he and Eudora went to before. It’s going to be a long night.

 

***

 

It is.

 

Diego gets home late at night, checks his phone, and immediately goes out again. There had been a voicemail from Patch sitting on his answering machine, beeping away at him until he caved and listened.

 

_“Diego, where are you? I— god, just call me back when you get this. There’s been another one. Another murder. Got all the signs of the last one: we might be looking at a serial killer. Just… get here. Soon.”_

 

That was left around fifteen minutes ago. Diego listens to the address one more time before he grabs his coat and his car keys, thoughts whirling around inside his head as he drives. For a supposedly idyllic small town, there are a few too many satanic murders going on to feel comfortable.

 

The area is already cordoned off when Diego arrives, driving breakneck speed to get there before Eudora leaves. She greets him with a grimace at the door and leads him through to the scene without a word, satisfied for him to look around on his own and draw his own conclusions.

 

The man has had his throat slit just like the others, but this time there are three regular kitchen knives sticking out of his stomach. There are symbols drawn on the wall in blood, dripping down in red rivulets.

 

“Forensics will bring back fingerprint matches for the knives,” Patch tells him sceptically. “But if it’s anything like last time I don’t expect there will be any.”

 

Diego nods absentmindedly, already examining the symbols on the wall to see if he can make any sense of them. They very well may just be the scribblings of a mad man but if they have any meaning at all, Diego is determined to figure it out. Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone approach Eudora, say something to her. She nods and follows the man out of the room, leaving him alone for a minute.

 

He sighs. This is a fucking mess, and it’ll mean he has to spend more time here, but at least it’s turning out to be more interesting than he originally thought it would be. He’s just turning around to leave, ask the name of the victim and maybe compile a mental list of all the questions he’ll need to ask tomorrow morning, when something catches his eye.

 

Bending down to pick it up, he can see that it’s a ring. A thin, plain, black band. He freezes.

 

“What have you got there?” Eudora asks, appearing suddenly in the doorway holding a thick looking case file in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. It doesn’t seem like she’s been there long, and Diego forces himself to play it cool, to not freak out.

 

“Nothing.” He says, and slips the ring into his pocket.


	4. Chapter 4

The station is sent into overdrive the next morning: printed out pictures of the man’s face are stuck on every available work surface and yet it feels like only Diego and Eudora are actually trying to get anywhere with the case. Diego passes at least three different detectives sat at their desks eating ice cream on his way in.

 

Eudora is watching for him when he arrives, hoisting the same file she had yesterday which, fortunately, is looking a lot thicker than it had been then. Thicker means more information, which means they must be at least making a breakthrough.

 

“Hargreeves,” Eudora greets him professionally, thankfully having dropped the formality of ‘detective’ every time she addresses him. “Good morning.”

 

He doesn’t bother returning the sentiment. Instead he chugs the coffee she must have made for him and holds his hands out for the file, silently demanding it. She hands it to him without question, and watches as he flicks through it.

 

The man was a Mr Ren Xiao, an unmarried, childless Chinese-American who had moved to town roughly eight years ago. His neighbours described him as a ‘pillar of society’, always friendly and never a bad word to say about anyone. They had no idea why anyone would ever want to hurt him. They also conveniently didn’t see anyone enter or leave his house last night. Fucking fantastic.

 

“I called in a favour,” Eudora tells him as he skim reads and glances at the gruesome pictures again. “The symbols on the walls are definitely written in his blood, no fingerprints at all, but get this. My guy thinks whoever wrote this was trying to write this, over and over again.”

 

She shoves another laminated piece of paper with a large Chinese symbol printed on it that, on further inspection, Diego realises kind of does look like the blood drawing of the crime scene. He looks back up at her expectantly.

 

“It’s the Chinese symbol for ‘knowledge’.” She tells him, body thrumming almost as though with excitement. Diego recognises it from when he first became a detective, the thrill you would get during a breakthrough on a really good case.

 

“So… what?” Diego takes the bait. “You think the vic wrote it himself? What’s the relevance of knowledge?”

 

“No, listen, that’s the thing!” She continues hurriedly, hopping up to sit on the corner of Diego’s desk. Back in New York he wouldn’t let anyone do that on his desk, would push them off and growl at them to ‘watch it’, but he thinks he’s going to have to do things a little differently here than he did in New York.

 

“Whoever wrote this did it really badly. It’s almost like… I don’t know, they were writing it with their eyes closed? In a hurry? Either way, Xiao wouldn’t have been able to do it with a slit neck, so it must have been the killer.”

 

Diego nods consderingly, pushes the file back on the table and sticks his hand in his jeans pocket. He runs the pad of his thumb round and round Klaus’s ring, which he hasn’t removed since he found it last night. He has a million new questions and answers, but that’s going to change. Today is a Saturday.

 

“I’m assuming no fingerprints on any of the knives?” Diego asks, already pushing his chair back and standing up to leave.

 

“Nope,” Eudora affirms. “But there’s still no trace of the knife used to cut his throat. It’s possible the killer still has it, but I’ve got a team searching the area just in case. If they’re smart enough not to leave fingerprints anywhere in the house then they’re not going to leave the murder weapon conveniently lying around.”

 

Questions are swarming in Diego’s head, absorbing all of his attention so much so that he almost doesn’t notice when one of the members he vaguely recognises from the tiny forensics department sidles up to his desk, looking shifty. He looks, Diego realises from years of honing his detective instincts, like he’s about to bestow bad news.

 

“Detectives,” he slurs out in a rush, addressing them both at once and juggling a singular sheet of paper between each hand. “We have the results from the latest vic for you. It seemed like the cause of death was blood loss.”

 

“No shit,” Diego mutters under his breath, clearly not quietly enough if the anxious expression cast his way is anything to go by. Whatever, he doesn’t understand why he’s having his time wasted here with knowledge that was pretty fucking obvious.

 

“But it’s not.” The man hurries to continue, and Diego hesitates. He exchanges a quick, suspicious glance with Eudora. “The cause of death was several punctured organs, from the knife wounds. Which means—”

 

“Which means,” Diego interrupts, standing up so suddenly that the table wobbles. He feels frozen all over, like he’s just been dunked in ice water. “He was already dead when someone cut his throat.”

 

“But why would anyone bother doing that? If they wanted to write the symbols in blood, why not just slit his throat in the first place?”

 

“Well…” the man cuts in timidly, looking between them like he’d rather be anywhere else. Fucking pathetic. “I know it’s not my place to say, but… what if it was someone else? The stab wounds all displayed an equal amount of force, suggesting they were inflicted by the same person. But the neck wound— for it to bleed that much it would have had to have been relatively soon after death. It displayed a weaker force than the stab wounds. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe they were two different people?”

 

“But why would someone cut a dead man’s throat?” Eudora asks after a beat of silence. Diego is reeling from this new possibility, skin tingling in a not-necessarily-unpleasant way.

 

“To draw the symbol.” He replies, mouth set in a grim line. _To_ _communicate_ , he doesn’t say. Instead, Diego pushes his chair back and thumbs the ring in his pocket again as though for comfort. “Please excuse me. There’s something I need to do.”

 

***

 

Klaus’ house is not exactly the epitome of a quaint little cottage: it’s lacking a white picket fence, for starters, and instead of the thatched roof and perfectly groomed garden it has broken slates and an overgrown jungle. The gate is rusty iron and when Diego lists the latch and pushes, it lets out a horrible shrieking noise. Diego winces.

 

He’s sort of counting on Klaus being home, because the kid doesn’t have any friends and he doesn’t seem like the type of person to enjoy going out on the weekends. By the time he’s made it to Klaus’ front door - sporting a dozen fresh cuts from the undergrowth - it feels like such an accomplishment that if Klaus isn’t there he’s just going to wait for him. He’d wait for hours, if that’s what it took.

 

The door swings open almost immediately, revealing the woman Diego had seen the other night in the pub. Now that he’s closer he can see the grey that flecks her temples, the wrinkles around the corners of her eyes, the way her mouth sets in a thin, impatient line when she sees who it is.

 

“Can I help you?” She asks, poking her head out of the crack in the door. Diego’s nostrils flare and he stops himself from barging in, demanding to see her son. He bites his tongue when she eyes him up and down, tells himself it’ll be worth it in the long run. He couldn’t wait to bring Klaus into the station again and besides, this concerns something Diego wants to keep between just him and Klaus.

 

“May I come in, ma’am?” He does his best to smile charmingly. She scowls at him but shuffles out of the way, inviting him into a dark tunnel. There’s a light at the end of the hallway, a silhouette and the sound of a kettle screeching, which Diego assumes is the kitchen. Sure enough she directs him there straight away and stoically asks him if he’d like anything to drink.

 

“No, thank you.” He declines respectfully. “I’m actually here to talk about your son, if that’s possible?”

 

She glares at him over her shoulder as she pours steaming hot water into a mug. Diego leans back unconsciously. “You people already questioned him, why can’t you just leave us alone? I don’t want him talking to you anymore without a lawyer here.”

 

Diego grits his teeth, having more resistance than he was expecting. It’s not a big problem - he’s not leaving this house until he’s talked to Klaus, god damn it, and if it means he has to lie he doesn’t really give a shit - but it’s still an inconvenience, still annoying.

 

“Of course, ma’am.” Diego nods acquiescently. “Although, I wouldn’t recommend hiring a lawyer. Things are looking bad enough as it is; between you and me, hiring a lawyer always seems to imply guilt.” He says it as though sharing a friendly piece of advice, like he isn’t trying to manipulate her into delivering her son to him.

 

She flushes and swallows, hunching over the work surface and suddenly looking much older than she must be. For a second there’s silence, and Diego honestly isn’t sure if any of what he’s said has struck a mark. Then she inhales, shakily, and calls out, “Klaus!”

 

Diego doesn’t even fucking hear him coming. He’s sure in most households there would be a muffled thumping sound, an irritated groan or at least a frustrated voice shouting back, “what?” But Klaus doesn’t do any of that, he just seems to fucking appear out of nowhere looking breathtakingly stunning.

 

He’s wearing an oversized pair of soft grey sweats and a baggy sweater, the sleeves covering almost his entire hand. His school tie is still slung loosely around his neck, and his hair is rumpled and adorably sleep-messy. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised to see Diego in his home, but he does look uncertainly between Diego and his mother, almost protectively. How cute, Diego thinks.

 

“Thank you,” Diego smiles. “I can take it from here.” It’s an obvious dismissal, but the woman brushes past Klaus and out of the room without an objection, without a word. Klaus very resolutely stares at the wall in front of him rather than his mother’s retreating back. Diego watches in silence as Klaus pulls up a chair and sits opposite him across the thin, rectangular dining table.

 

Klaus opens his mouth and, whilst Diego kind of wants to know what he would have said, he can’t hold himself off anymore. He lunges forward, fingers curling around Klaus’ tie and wrenches Klaus’ whole body forward: the boy’s breath leaves him in a little whooshing sound and his hands slap against the table for balance from where his torso is bent over it. When he looks up at Diego from under the mop of brown, curly hair, his eyes are wide and wet and frightened.

 

“You think you can lie to me and get away with it, huh? Is that it, kid?” Diego hisses, knowing that the door is open and that Klaus’ mother could walk past at any second, see them like this. He doesn’t care.

 

“No! What—” Tears are already running down Klaus’ face, and when he speaks his voice hiccups softly.

 

“Your _ring_.” Diego spits. “Notice it’s _missing_ recently?”

 

Klaus freezes, and Diego hadn’t realised he was leaning over the table as well until he feels Klaus’ unsteady breath fanning across his face, his lips.

 

“Did you wanna get noticed, baby?” Diego asks, soft and saccharine sweet. “You had to make it dramatic, right? Are you just that much of an attention whore, baby?”

 

Klaus eyelashes flutter and Diego is so close that he can physically feel the shudder that rips through the boy’s body at his words, can almost taste his tears on the tip of his tongue.

 

“No, no Diego.” Klaus is murmuring tearfully. “I didn’t— it wasn’t—”

 

“Shh, baby.” Diego shushes him, still not releasing his punishing grip around the tie but bringing a hand to stroke Klaus’ cheek, to wipe away his tears, contrastingly softly. They exist in silence for a minute, Diego’s fingers trailing their way down Klaus’ face until they’re tracing over his lips, just teasing with the idea of pushing into his mouth. Klaus’ body is practically thrumming with energy, even though he seems so dopey and sleepy and malleable now.

 

“Did you do it for me, hmm? To get my attention?” Diego continues, easing just the tip of his index finger past Klaus’ soft lips. He rests it on Klaus’ tongue, warm and wet and perfect, whilst he rubs his other fingers over the kid’s bottom lip.

 

“You think of me while you were doing it? It’s okay baby, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I think of you too.” Klaus is shaking his head incrementally as though to disagree with what Diego is saying, or like he wants to protest but just can’t. At this, though, his eyes snap upwards to meet Diego’s.

 

“I think about… these lips.” Diego tells him honestly, voice almost reverent. “Think about what I’d do to them, where I’d put them. You ever sucked a cock, sweetheart?”

 

Klaus looks enraptured, and Diego doesn’t have to peek under the table to know that he’s hard in his tracksuits, that the outline of his cock would be perfectly visible if he were to stand up. It’s this knowledge that makes Diego want to continue, want to see how far he can push Klaus until he either outright sobs or comes in his pants. The boy is already slipping under, that much is obvious, and Diego wonders if this is his first proper experience with it. If Diego will get to be the first to guide Klaus through and out the other end all in one piece, all put together but moulded differently.

 

Slowly, he shakes his head no. Diego grins like a shark, predatorily.

 

“That’s alright.” He coos, sliding another finger inside Klaus’ mouth and watching carefully as drool slips down the boy’s chin. “I’d be gentle with you. Show you what to do. You’d like that, wouldn’t you sweetheart?”

 

This time when Klaus nods, tears drip off the tip of his nose. It’s the cutest thing Diego has ever seen. When he slides his fingers out of Klaus’ mouth the boy just slips backwards, back into his chair, eyes hazy and unfocused. He’s fully there now, Diego can tell, floating around in his own little bubble induced by Diego’s sweet words and his rough actions.

 

In this new position it’s easy to see almost all of Klaus’ body, and it confirms what Diego had thought earlier. Klaus looks painfully hard, cock tenting the fabric of his sweats and a wet patch staining the fabric where he must be leaking precome.

 

“Look at you,” Diego breathes, in fucking _awe_. “Already so wet for me. I wish I could let you come, baby.” Klaus whines at this, his hips seeming to thrust upwards involuntarily, searching in vain for pressure. “But I have real work to do. Besides, your parents are around. Wouldn’t want mommy and daddy seeing what a pretty little slut you are, huh?”

 

Klaus makes a sound like someone’s punched all the air of of his lungs, and his hands slap down onto the table like he has to physically keep them there or he’ll automatically touch himself, won’t be able to stop.

 

“Is that why you did it, baby?” Diego murmurs, dragging the sole of his foot up and down Klaus’ ankle under the table. “Just that much of an attention whore? I wouldn’t blame you, not with the way mommy and daddy ignore you. Don’t worry, baby. You don’t need them. I can be your daddy, how does that sound? Me taking care of you, giving you what you need?”

 

He lets out a breathy little moan and Diego, eyes flickering to the front of his tracksuits, watches as his cock spits out more precome and the dark patch grows. “Yeah,” he pleads.

 

“But I can’t do that if you don’t tell me the truth, baby boy.” Diego says regretfully. “What really happened that night, huh? How’d your ring end up in Xiao’s house? You ready to tell me?”

 

There’s a beat of hesitation where Diego thinks maybe this isn’t actually going to work after all, maybe Klaus still won’t tell him, maybe—

 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Klaus replies, and the words are all wrong but he himself is sweet and pliant and on his best-boy-behaviour, all for Diego.

 

“Tell me anyway.” Diego commands, gently picking up one of Klaus’ hands and sliding the ring over his thumb, back into its rightful place. Klaus must understand what this means, because he blinks blearily up at Diego and keeps talking.

 

“I blacked out. Last night, I blacked out and on February 12th as well. It’s like... one minute I’m all there and the next I’m blinking my eyes open and I’m somewhere completely different, doing something completely different. I can’t control it. Last night I— we— I had just finished eating. We eat dinner together, always. My parents say they want to act like a proper family. One second I was in my room and the next I was in that man’s house. He was… _dead_. There was blood everywhere, all over the floor and my hands and my clothes and there were drawings on the walls. There was a knife in my hands. I think— I think I cut his throat.”

 

Klaus is trembling by the time he’s finished talking, shoulders shaking and words breaking up into hiccups. Diego sits back in his chair, heart thumping uncomfortably quickly and his head full of this new information.

 

He believes Klaus. As fucking ridiculous as it may be, he genuinely believes Klaus is telling him the truth, and if he is then that means Klaus wasn’t the one who killed Dave or Xiao, but he cut the man’s throat and he was there at the scene of the crime, maybe minutes after the murderer left. It also means that Eudora and the rest of the department are chasing down a dead lead, and Diego intends to keep it that way.

 

He’s only just found Klaus. He’s not going to let anyone take him away so quickly.

 

“What did you do when you came back?” Diego asks intently, and Klaus’ eyes widen a fraction when he must realise that Diego believes him. He doesn’t hesitate to tell him, probably eager to be listened to for the first time in his life.

 

“I ran home. I knew my way back to my house from his, so I went out the back and ran home. Burnt the clothes and took a shower. The knife is at the bottom of my wardrobe.” So that would explain why none of the neighbours saw him, but Diego still has questions.

 

“The symbol you drew: do you know what it means?” He asks, gently this time, because Klaus looks terrified and exhausted all at once, like this conversation has taken everything out of him. He shakes his head.

 

“I don’t even remember drawing it. I’m sorry.” He ducks his head when he says this like he’s genuinely ashamed of himself, and Diego can’t help himself. He stands and leans over the table, placing a chaste kiss to Klaus’ forehead. Klaus looks up at him through his tears, and sniffles.

 

“Have you told anyone else?” Diego asks.

 

“No.”

 

“Good. Don’t.” He tells him, circling round the table and bending slightly to cup Klaus’ face in his hands just briefly, just for long enough to say, “Thank you for being so good for me. I’ll see you soon, Klaus.”

 

He doesn’t say goodbye to Klaus’ mother when he leaves, doesn’t stop to see if his father is home. He walks out, leaves Klaus at the table shaking like a leaf and hard as a rock, and walks steadfastly to his car where it’s parked a few spaces over. On his way over, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a fuchsia pink car parked in front of Klaus’ neighbour’s house. It usually wouldn’t draw his attention, except the bright colour is a beacon of attention in this conservative town.

 

There are two people inside the vehicle: a tall white man with a scruffy beard and an older looking black woman with sleek brown hair. They both look deadly, and they’re both looking straight at him.

 

Diego whips his head around, trying to ignore the shiver that sends up his spine. This town is too fucking creepy, he thinks to himself, brushing it off as nothing.

 

By the time he gets back to the station, he’s forgotten all about them.

 

***

 

It’s a piece of cake getting his hands on Klaus’ file again, flicking through the pages until he’s found Klaus’ personal phone number. He swipes his own phone on and brings up the new message option, knowing Klaus will know it’s him immediately.

 

He’s deliberately chosen this time because it’s around seven in the evening, round about the time Klaus would be sitting down to eat dinner with his parents on either side, a horribly awkward affair Diego is sure. He types a message and grins to himself, imagining the way Klaus will flush bright pink when he reads it, imagining the way he’ll press his thighs together and bite his bottom lip and fight against the floating, airy feeling in his chest.

 

_‘Tonight you’re going to rut against your mattress until you come. Keep all your clothes on. Bite down on the pillow if you’re making too much noise. Think of me, baby boy.’_

 

He has no way of knowing whether Klaus will follow his instructions or not, but he likes to think that he will. Klaus is a good boy, he’ll do as he’s told. Sure enough, less than ten minutes later Diego gets a reply: only two words, but they’re telling enough.

 

‘ _Thank_ _you_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE HEARING YOUR THEORIES!! <3


	5. Chapter 5

“We have a link.” Eudora tells him proudly, shoving into his personal space and sliding her laptop onto his desk. Diego has to move the papers he’s currently skim reading hurriedly unless he wants them to scattered all over the floor. He grits his teeth and swallows down his complaint, his annoyance.

 

“What?” He spits. It’s way too early for her to sound so fucking chirpy, and he hasn’t had his coffee this morning. She doesn’t look at all put off by his surly attitude; instead she drags up a stool by him and points at some blurry looking words on the screen.

 

“Graham and Xiao, they both have a link. Tenuous, but a link all the same. It didn’t seem important at first but Graham was found with traces of narcotics in his system. It wasn’t a particularly large amount so we didn’t think it was a big deal until the lab result for Xiao came back. Same narcotic— small amount, unidentified but definitely the same substance. Possible connection?”

 

Diego snatches the laptop towards himself, clearly shocking Eudora. As tired as he is, he still has the emotional capability to get pissed and this? This is something to get pissed over. Sure, he understands that they don’t have many criminals running amok around here so they don’t often have to do the same work Diego does, but satanic murderers and potential drug addicts? Are they fucking _incompetent_?

 

He doesn’t say any of this, of course. As irritated as he feels at this obvious lack of experience he doesn’t want to be needlessly cruel to Eudora, especially not when he doesn’t actually want her to solve this case. He has no idea what he’s going to do with this - take himself off the case, maybe? Can he actually do that, when him being here in the first place was a punishment? - but he knows that whatever he does, he’s going to have to think of it soon.

 

“Any outstanding debts?” Diego asks absentmindedly.

 

“None on record.” Eudora answers quickly, perhaps picking up on Diego’s bad attitude. “What do you think? Both addicts? Maybe they knew each other? We could—”

 

Diego’s head is killing him and he can’t stand to listen to Eudora for another second, not when his own thoughts are overtaking him at every turn. He stands abruptly, cutting her off mid sentence, before muttering out a half assed excuse and hurrying out. His feet are carrying him to a familiar place before his head catches up, and he recognises where he’s headed.

 

Klaus’ school comes into view, just as grey and soul crushing as it was before, and Diego follows the sidewalk round to the front gate. He’s not entirely sure what he’s planning on doing exactly - maybe call Klaus out of another lesson - but he discovers that none of it matters when he rounds the corner and sees Klaus hunched over on the curb. The biology teacher, Mr Jenkins, it sitting next to him with what looks like a comforting hand on his back, and Diego only sees why when he gets closer, his heavy footsteps making both look up to see who’s approaching.

 

Klaus has blood dripping from his nose in slow, steady trickles, but there’s the stain of blood above his top lip like maybe the flow has only just slowed down. He has a sore looking bruise around his left eye, and his bottom lip is split. Diego feels his blood boil and he’s winding himself up for a fight by the time he reaches the pair on the other side of the road.

 

Jenkins stands up as though to greet him but Diego ignores him entirely, instead standing tall in front of Klaus. Klaus, for once, stays seated, and peers up at Diego warily from under his hand to block to sun.

 

“What happened?” Diego demands.

 

“Detective Hargreeves,” Jenkins smiles tautly, like he’s frazzled. “Klaus and I were just talking about how he’s choosing not to report the child that attacked him.” Klaus’ head snaps in Jenkins’ direction in betrayal, and Diego’s mind flits to all those offences in his file where he was the only one reprimanded for fighting. He wonders how often Klaus has had this conversation with a teacher, or if this is the first time anyone has ever taken Klaus’ side.

 

“Klaus,” Diego inhales carefully, controlled, as he crouches down at the boy’s eye level. “Tell me what happened.”

 

Klaus keeps eye contact with him for a few seconds, eyes wide and terrified, before he drops his gaze and shakes his head just barely.

 

“Nothing,” Klaus sighs, looking away. Diego straightens up, setting his jaw and nodding.

 

“Okay,” He says through gritted teeth. “Well how about I take you home, hmm? I’m sure your teacher has better things to do than sit out here with you.” It’s said as a punishment, almost, for not telling him the truth. Diego had thought he’d instilled in Klaus the importance of being honest with him, but clearly he hasn’t.

 

The way Klaus’ shoulders fold around himself at the battery of words tells Diego that he succeeded at what he was trying to do, but strangely enough it doesn’t feel particularly good. The power is heady, but making Klaus feel like shit about himself just after he’s been beaten up doesn’t have the same rush telling him what to do usually does.

 

“If you’d be able to,” Jenkins says slowly, looking between Klaus and Diego suspiciously. Diego flashes him a shark-friendly smile.

 

“It’s no trouble.”

 

Diego watches disdainfully as Klaus clambers to his feet without offering him a hand up, and waits until Jenkins has rounded the corner before grabbing Klaus by the forearm and yanking him forward. He sets up a brutally fast walking pace that has Klaus stumbling along behind him, propelled forward by Diego’s painful grip on his arm.

 

“Hey—” Klaus protests weakly, attempting to dig his heels into the tarmac. Obviously Diego has years of experience at close combat so Klaus’ resistance does nothing but infuriate him further, but surprisingly enough he finds that, by the time he’s rounded the corner, dragged Klaus into the nearest alley and pushed him up flat against the brick wall, that anger has dissipated.

 

Rather, his anger at Klaus has dissipated. He’s still shaking with repressed fury, still feels his blood boiling and his skin vibrating with the need to punch something - or preferably someone - but it’s no longer Klaus. Instead it’s whoever hurt Klaus like this, and Diego isn’t going to let him go until he gets a name.

 

“What the fu—” Klaus begins, but is silenced almost immediately by Diego’s hand slapping over his mouth. Klaus goes cross eyed looking at it, and if he wasn’t so fucking mad he’d find it cute. He’d probably laugh, tease him a bit, call him pretty maybe, but this is not the time and if Klaus is going to start being good for him then he needs to know he’s being bad in the first place.

 

“Give me a name.” Diego hisses, bending his back so that he’s at eye level with Klaus, when normally he’d be at least half a head taller. “Now.”

 

“…Diego?” Klaus answers, a sort of hopeful, half smile on his face. Diego feels it crack through his chilly exterior and despite himself he knows there’s a half smile of his own creeping onto his face. Klaus positively beams when he sees it.

 

“You’re cute.” Diego snarks, the hand that isn’t pressed against Klaus’ shoulder sliding up his chest to grip his face tightly. Klaus’ cheeks colour and his breathing speeds up infinitesimally; Diego wouldn’t even notice if he weren’t standing so close to the boy. “But I’m serious. Give me the name of the person who attacked you.”

 

“Diego,” Klaus tries to argue, sounding plaintive and pleading. “No one attacked me, it was just a misunderstanding.”

 

“Is that what you call this?” Diego thumbs Klaus’ split lip, smearing blood and saliva over the pad of his thumb. He brings it to his lips, enjoys the look of rapt attention on Klaus’ face, as he licks it off. “A misunderstanding?”

 

Klaus swallows, hard. “I’m a teenage boy,” he says eventually, and yes. Diego is _fully_ aware. “Fighting is practically a right of passage. You should see the other guy.”

 

“I’m _trying_.” Diego points out irritably, and he’s just about to continue when Klaus surges forward and smacks their faces together. Diego rears back, hand flying to his nose. “Ow, What the _fuck_?”

 

Klaus’ cheeks light up with a blush and he tries to pull away, turning his face away from Diego like he’s trying to hide in his own shoulder. Diego doesn’t let him get away, getting both of his hands on the boy’s shoulders and holding him flush against the wall.

 

“Hey,” he growls. “Klaus, what the fuck was that, huh?”

 

Klaus squeezes his eyes shut, and he’s not in pain, Diego realises. He’s not upset, or scared, or aggressive. He’s embarrassed.

 

“I was trying to kiss you, asshole!” Klaus cries, scrabbling at Diego’s hands on his shoulders, fingernails leaving thin, red lines on his skin. Diego’s face goes blank for a second, and then a slow smirk spreads over his face.

 

“You wanna kiss me, baby?” He coos. He’s not even mad that Klaus called him an asshole: he’s being an asshole right now and he knows it. Klaus scowls at him, face flushed with eyes downcast. He opens his mouth to reply but Diego takes him off guard; maybe it’s a little mean, but he’s still a little pissed.

 

He takes one quick stride forward, wraps his hand around Klaus’ neck with the ball of his hand resting on the boy’s Adam’s apple, and uses this momentum to push him stumbling back into the wall. Klaus’ eyes widen as he stares up in Diego with a mixture of fear and arousal.

 

“What—” he tries, and then Diego’s mouth is covering his.

 

Klaus is a tentative kisser - Diego has to wonder if anyone has ever licked their way into his mouth like this before, owned him from the inside out - but Diego is more than happy to take the lead. He licks flat over Klaus’ closed mouth at first, teases his bottom lip with his teeth and tongue until the boy parts his lips and lets Diego in. It’s electric: wet and filthy, and by the time Diego pulls away to catch his breath Klaus is panting wetly into Diego’s mouth and his pupils are blown wide.

 

Diego presses in once again, just quickly, and nips at Klaus’ already split lip. There’s the faint taste of coppery blood, and Diego licks it up.

 

“Come on.” He grins at Klaus’ fucked out, dazed expression. “Lets get you home.”

 

***

 

Klaus’ room is pretty much exactly how Diego thought it would be: clothes are strewn all over the floor and tacky posters for old bands are stuck all over the walls, corners peeling. It could be the perfectly normal bedroom of a perfectly normal teenage boy if it weren’t for the newspaper stuck over the windows, blocking out most of the light. Diego doesn’t bother to turn the light on; instead he heads straight for the wardrobe. He’s not really sure what he’s doing right now, but he has a hunch, and this is where Luther hid all his porn mags back when they were kids.

 

Because sure, it might be a coincidence that the two men ritually sacrificed had traces of drugs in their systems, and it might be a coincidence that Klaus randomly showed up at both scenes with no memory of how he got there.

 

But Klaus is the kid with a criminal record for possession, and maybe weed is a little different to an unidentified substance, but three coincidences make a pattern, and Diego expects he’ll find that pattern lurking in the bottom of Klaus’ underwear drawer.

 

Admittedly, rifling through Klaus’ underwear drawer after backing the kid into a wall and tongue fucking him might not be the best idea, but Klaus looks too spaced out after what went on back there that he’s clearly not going to object. Diego glances over at him every few seconds but he hasn’t moved anything other than his head since they came in, and only to follow Diego around his room.

 

“Where are they?” Diego mutters, not really directing the question at Klaus.

 

“Where are what?” He answers, sounding sleepy and confused and - and maybe Diego is projecting a bit here - but a tiny bit paranoid. “What are you looking for?”

 

“Your stash.” Diego emphasises, and Klaus perks up a little bit at this. “Your drugs. Where are you keeping them?”

 

“I’m not—” he tries to argue back, weakly.

 

“Are you the one making them? Are you behind it all? Or are you just selling them?” Diego spits venom out with each rhetorical question, knowing that his words will make Klaus feel like shit even if the answer is ‘yes’.

 

“Diego, stop it!” Klaus cries, and it’s only then that Diego notices he’s ripping through Klaus’ belongings haphazardly, flinging clothes and books and what looks like homework all over the floor. Klaus has tear tracks down his face, and despite himself Diego does feel a twinge of guilt. He walks towards the boy carefully, like Klaus is a wild animal who might get scared easily.

 

“Klaus,” he hums, mildly apologetic. When he’s closer to the boy he grazes his knuckles under his chin, tilts his head upwards just slightly so that Klaus is looking at him, has all his attention focused solely on Diego. “Just tell me where they are, baby boy. Be good for me?”

 

Klaus bites his bottom lip, and Diego wants to bite it in his place.

 

“Bedside table.” Klaus says eventually, voice thick with tears and breaking on the last syllable. He wipes his hand under his nose and tries to brush away the tears as though Diego hasn’t already seen him cry. “There’s a false bottom in the last draw.”

 

He doesn’t try and explain further than that, doesn’t try to defend himself or say that he had nothing to do with the drugs in Dave or Xiao because he knows Diego won’t believe him. He just hovers nervously behind him as Diego opens the draw, smashes his fist onto what he presumes is the false bottom and watches as it falls away.

 

There’s a collection of items under the false bottom - and no, Diego was definitely not hoping to find Klaus’ secret porn stash. There’s a packet of what looks like home rolled cigarettes, definitely marijuana, and then a little plastic bag of pills. There’s a full bottle of prescription pills with Klaus’ name on that Diego glances at - clozapine, Diego resolves to look into that later - and then powder. He assumes this is the powder that the other men took before they died.

 

He sits back on Klaus’ bed, sighing. “Wanna tell me about this?” He raises an eyebrow at the boy. He should be glad Diego is giving him an opportunity to explain at all, but then it’s not like he’d go and rat the boy out anyway.

 

“I’m just delivering it.” Klaus promises quickly, tearfully. “I’m not selling it— I just. I’m just doing someone a favour!”

 

“Who?” Is Diego’s immediate response. He’s expecting it when Klaus shakes his head, tight lipped, but it’s no less frustrating.

 

“Klaus, the person you’re protecting could be a murderer.” Diego tells him, trying his best to be gentle even when it’s the last thing he wants to be. “Do you really want to protect a murderer?”

 

“They’re not!” Klaus argues. Diego thinks he needs to assert more force.

 

But then maybe Klaus is smarter than Diego gives him credit for, because he levels the man with such a melancholy look that in that second Diego can see everything he’s thinking right there on his face. He knows Diego can’t force him to say anything, because that would require turning him in and he knows he won’t do that. The only hope Diego has of finding out is if he convinces Klaus he wants to tell him.

 

Alright then. He can do that.

 

“C’mere,” Diego sighs, as though he’s exhausted with all of this. “Hey, baby boy, come here. I’m sorry— didn’t mean to make you cry.” Klaus inches towards him suspiciously. When he’s close enough Diego grins boyishly and tugs on his school tie playfully, pulling Klaus down into his lap. The kid yelps and, when he’s caught his balance with a hand on Diego’s thigh and one on the bed behind them, looks up at Diego accusingly.

 

“You’re just so pretty when you cry.” Diego tells him, voice low. He smooths a hand over Klaus’ curls, down his neck and then back up to brush away a tear for him. “So pretty, baby.” Diego can feel Klaus hardening against his stomach, can feel his need. Without warning he gets a hand on the mattress behind himself and pushes, keeping an arm locked around Klaus’ waist securely, so that he’s rolling them over until Klaus’ back is flat against the bed with Diego hovering over him.

 

Diego lays Klaus out flat and holds his shoulders down against the mattress when he tries to prop himself up on his elbows. His cock is already straining at the fabric of his schoolboy slacks, and when Diego places a firm hand over it his hips jerk, and he cries out so prettily that Diego knows the noise will stay with him forever.

 

“You want me to believe you’re just handling it, huh?” He continues, hands fumbling in the drawer by his head until he finds the joint he’s looking for. “You’re telling me you don’t try a bit for yourself?”

 

He waves the cigarette between his fingers and Klaus’ eyes follow it guiltily. That’s not exactly a mystery then.

 

Diego leans back to find a lighter in Klaus’ draw, keeping one hand pressed with his palm flat against Klaus’ cock through his trousers. It seems to be the most effective way of keeping him pinned to the bed, head thrown back with his hair like a halo around him. His mouth hangs open in a silent moan, lips wet with spit and still a little red and swollen from Diego’s rough treatment earlier.

 

“Want a hit, baby?” Diego asks, enjoying the way Klaus blinks his eyes open confusedly and settle on the joint in his hands before flicking the lighter and lighting the end. It glows bright for a second before he raises it to his lips and takes a drag.

 

Klaus nods slowly, catching on fast enough to know not to try and sit up. He makes as though to reach out, but when Diego tuts and shakes his head he drops it. Diego holds the cigarette between his thumb and his forefinger, lit end towards him, and brings it to Klaus’ mouth. He parts his lips, allowing Diego to rest the end on his bottom lip.

 

It would probably be really counterproductive to slide his fingers in alongside the joint, but seeing Klaus’ lips wrapped around it really isn’t helping his self control.

 

Klaus blows out smoke neatly, charmingly almost, like he’s done this a thousand times before. The thought makes Diego’s chest pang for some reason, which doesn’t really make any sense because he’s smoked his fair share of weed before. He banishes the idea before it can take root but the jealousy remains: jealousy of anything and everything that touches Klaus that isn’t him.

 

Just to consolidate what he feels is his claim over Klaus, he slots the cigarette back between his lips and moves fluidly further down the bed, further down Klaus’ body. Klaus trembles.

 

“Careful, baby.” Diego warns with a smirk in his voice, and pinches Klaus’ hip for good measure. “Don’t wanna drop that. Be a good boy and keep your mouth shut.”

 

It’s ironic that this is the total opposite of what Diego really wants to say to him, but this is the game right now and he’ll be damned if he’s going to lose. Klaus whimpers but holds the joint steady between his lips, breathes through his nose. It’ll burn down to a stub soon and Diego isn’t planning to draw this out long enough to actually burn him, but he wonders if it’s the danger that turns Klaus on more than anything.

 

Diego unzips his slacks, pushing the fabric away gently and smoothing his hand over the fabric of Klaus’ boxers, tented and stained with a wet patch by the tip of his cock. He whines when Diego touches him, lets out a shaky, muffled moan when Diego takes him out of his boxers and strokes his fingertips up the shaft in a barely there touch.

 

“Easy, sweetheart.” Diego says calmly, and the. contrasts this by wrapping a tight hand around his erection. Klaus’ hips jump involuntarily. Diego laughs, loud enough for Klaus to hear and blush, and stroking him again.

 

“Not gonna take you long, is it?” He mocks. “Ready to let go already, aren’t you baby boy? So fucking eager for it, my very own pretty little slut. So easy for it.” Diego looks up the bed to see the glowing amber end of the joint burning low, the unsteady rise and fall of Klaus’ chest giving away his little sobs. He ducks down and traces the tip of his tongue in circles around the head of Klaus’ cock.

 

Klaus, like any inexperienced teenage boy, comes fucking immediately.

 

He opens his mouth and moans whorishly, the cigarette falling onto his chest and burning a quick hole through his school tie, as his cock spurts come unexpectedly across Diego’s cheek.

 

“Fuck, _fuck_ , _daddy_.” Klaus moans, seemingly totally unaware of what he’s even saying. Diego’s brain whites out, caught on that last word. He hadn’t really intended to use it as anything other than something to tease Klaus with about his parents, but hearing Klaus say it so desperately has him wiping the come off his face with his fingers and smearing it across Klaus’ chest so they’re both covered, both filthy with it.

 

“That’s it,” he urges, low and gravelly, unzipping his own trousers and guiding Klaus’ limp hand towards his cock. With the other hand he moves the joint, not caring if it burns the wood of the dresser. By the hazy, blissful expression on Klaus’ face, he doesn’t care much either. Either that or he’s hardly even aware.

 

“That’s it baby boy. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Daddy’s got you. M’gonna show you what to do, okay? Just like this, just curl your fingers.” Klaus does, and it feels like an electric current ripping down his body from the tip of his cock to his toes. He licks a stripe across Klaus’ face, come and tears on his tongue that he then feeds back to the boy.

 

“Like how you’d touch yourself.” Diego instructs, feeling uncharacteristically breathless. Klaus’ hand tightens, touching him a little more firmly, a little more confidently. “There you go baby boy. You’re getting it, huh? You’re so good, so good for me. So good for your daddy, aren’t you? My very own good boy.”

 

Diego wraps his hand around Klaus’ hand on his cock, guides him into a steady rhythm. He fucks into the ring of Klaus’ fingers, coaxes the kid’s eyes open and strokes their tongues together. When he comes, he comes over Klaus’ stomach; he keeps the boy’s wrists pinned to the bed, kissing him breathless, until it’s dried.

 

As Diego is tucking himself back into his trousers - Klaus is still laid out semi naked on the bed, looking like the starring role in a porno - he plucks the bag of powder out of Klaus’ desk and pockets it.

 

“Hey,” Klaus objects sleepily, words slurring together. “Diego, wait, that’s not mine. You can’t—”

 

“Well then call them up,” Diego tells him sternly. “And tell them they can come and get it themselves.” Klaus swallows, breaking eye contact, but doesn’t argue any further. The room reeks of weed and sex.

 

 

When he leaves, there is a part of him screaming that this can only end badly. There’s another part of himself saying that he should turn around, go back up there and never let Klaus out of his sight, out of his arms.

 

Diego ignores both, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand to check Klaus’ come isn’t still smeared around his face, and looks around surreptitiously. This can only end badly, but until then Diego is one hundred percent along for the ride.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I’ve been without wifi for a few days, but I’ve pre written a bunch of chapters so that’s fun! :)
> 
> Also!! Updated tags... approach with caution <3

Diego makes a list.

 

Back in New York there was always someone he could make a board with, someone to compile all the information with and if he forgot anything then they’d point it out and help him slot it all into place. Here, if he wants to keep Klaus out of prison, he has no one but himself to rely on.

 

So he makes a list of everything he knows, everything he suspects and everything he needs to find out.

 

He knows that someone in town has been murdering people. He knows that Klaus has been going round to their houses afterwards - supposedly unconscious at the time - and making the scene look like devil worship. He knows that Klaus slit Xiao’s neck and used the blood to write a symbol in a language he doesn’t even know. He knows that Klaus gave drugs to both victims - the same drugs that were found in their bloodstreams Diego now knows thanks to the tests he managed to bribe a lab tech to do in secret - because he’s working for someone else who is probably the murderer, but who Klaus seems to trust implicitly.

 

He knows that Klaus has not been taking the medicine he was prescribed for schizophrenia, and he knows that no one else in the town likes him, except maybe Eudora.

 

Objectively, he knows a lot. He’s made a lot of progress on this case in the time he’s actually been working on it, but whenever he tries putting it together it feels like there’s just something in the way. Some block in Diego’s mind, some wall that he can’t break past, that’s stopping him from seeing the bigger picture.

 

It’s fucking frustrating, is what it is, and even Diego needs to distract himself sometimes. That’s how he finds himself outside Klaus’ school at the end of the day on a Tuesday, watching out of the window of his inconspicuous car. There’s a flood of drab school kids swarming towards him, and when the majority of them have passed and Klaus still hasn’t made an appearance Diego sighs, unbuckles and gets out of the car.

 

He’s not really checking up on him, Diego thinks to himself as he leans against the side of his car, arms crossed over his chest to intimidate anyone who might want to ask questions. He’s just… making sure no one is acting suspiciously. Making sure Klaus didn’t tell anyone about what happened, _not_ making sure no one attacked him today. Jesus, he can’t even rely on the school to keep Klaus safe; this place is so useless that he has to do everything himself.

 

Eventually Klaus appears, ambling out of the school gates with a small, pink slip of paper and Jenkins next to him. They’re so engaged in conversation that Klaus doesn’t even notice Diego waiting until he’s said goodbye to the teacher, until he’s past the school gates. When he does notice Diego he looks from side to side nervously before crossing the road, twiddling with his bag straps.

 

“What are you doing here?” Klaus asks, voice low and still anxious sounding. “What if someone sees?”

 

Diego holds open the car door for him, a command more than an invitation. Klaus sighs and climbs in, stuffing his schoolbag into the footwell and tugging on his seatbelt as he waits for Diego to start the engine.

 

“So what if someone sees?” Diego mocks him. “Are you ashamed of me? Don’t want anyone knowing you take it up the ass, huh?”

 

“Fuck you.” Klaus spits, but it’s too weak to be venomous and he swallows hard afterwards, glares purposefully out of the window as his face glows red. Diego snickers and slings his arm over Klaus’ seat in order to check behind him before he reverses. Something catches his attention in the corner of his eye: a bright pink car, with two people behind the windscreen. Diego swallows, frowning.

 

Whilst the car is memorable enough, Diego remembers the people as well. They don’t exactly seem like typical residents here, and after he saw them lurking outside Klaus’ house the other day he’s inclined to be slightly more suspicious about it now. He desperately wants to ask Klaus, wants to ask him if he knows these people or at least what his dealer looks like, but Klaus won’t answer him right now - especially not after he just made fun of him - and he’s not going to make himself look weak.

 

He grits his teeth and, deliberately choosing not to smash his car into them, avoids the strangers. He makes a note of the registration number so that he can use the precinct’s technology to look them up later on, but otherwise doesn’t mention it. The route to Klaus’ house has become almost second nature to Diego now, but Klaus himself is still staring unshakeably out of the window like he’ll spontaneously combust if he looks at Diego.

 

“What’s that?” Diego tries, jerking his head towards the slip of paper in Klaus’ hand. The boy shrugs, refusing to look at him.

 

“Permission slip.” He grunts, practically monosyllabic. “Chemistry trip.” They fall into silence after that, and Diego has the ridiculous urge to fidget.

 

“Klaus,” Diego says, side eyeing him and keeping two hands on the wheel. There aren’t many people on the road at this time, so he’s not too afraid of crashing. Klaus doesn’t reply, so he tries again. “Hey, Klaus. Look at me. _Klaus_!”

 

“What?” Klaus grunts, hunching his shoulders around himself like wings folded up. He sounds upset; Diego sighs. He forgets sometimes that he can’t be as harsh with Klaus as he would be with anyone else— the boy is soft. Delicate. An accessory to murder, potentially, but needing constant attention and praise at the same time.

 

“You upset with me, baby?” Diego asks sweetly, finding Klaus’ thigh without taking his eyes off the road and spreading his hand wide over it. Klaus jumps, leg going tense for a few seconds before it seems like he forces himself to relax. Diego rubs his thumb in soft circles over the fabric of Klaus’ slacks.

 

“No,” Klaus mutters in a voice that makes it pretty obvious he’s lying. Diego slides his hand upwards, settling it over Klaus’ crotch, grinning when he feels that the boy is already half hard. He’s always so eager, even when he’s crying, and it gets Diego hot.

 

“Diego,” Klaus swallows, looking at him just barely now from under the hair filling into his eyes. He brushes a brown curl out of his face and curls his hand into a baby-fist like he’s actively trying to stop himself from reaching out and touching Diego’s hand. He’s learning.

 

“People— people could see.” Diego makes a big show of looking around at the deserted country road they’re currently on. When he raises a doubtful eyebrow at Klaus the boy bites his bottom lip, torn, and he inhales shakily. Diego unbuttons and unzips Klaus’ trousers as successfully as he canwhen he’s driving at the same time, and finally gets his hand around Klaus’ cock again.

 

“What if someone comes?” Klaus whispers nervously, and Diego knows he’s won. It takes everything in him not to make a leery joke at that, but he manages and instead strokes along the boy’s erection once, twice, before taking his hand off. He holds it in front of Klaus’ face. He looks at it uncertainly, hand wrapping around Diego’s wrist like he’s not sure he’s allowed.

 

Diego sighs, overly put upon. “Lick it, baby boy.” He explains. “Get it nice and wet.”

 

Klaus squeezes his eyes shut, but drags his tongue across his bottom lip and then brings Diego’s hand to his mouth; it’s gross and Klaus seems to think so too, but he does a pretty thorough job of it, sucking on just the tips of Diego’s fingers when his palm is damp enough. Diego is hard now and it’s distracting, but he keeps one hand on the wheel and his eyes on the road as he takes Klaus’ erection in his hand and strokes him.

 

Klaus whimpers and lets his head loll to the side; it makes a _thunk_ sound as it hits the window and Diego lets out a breathless laugh, tightening his grip and twisting his hand. He wishes more than anything that he could pull over and watch Klaus fall apart for him - give the boy the attention he so clearly wants - but he can’t take any longer than usual bringing Klaus home or his parents might get suspicious.

 

“Is it good, sweetheart?” Diego asks innocently and is rewarded with a choked out, high pitched moan. Klaus’ whole body shudders and his dick pulses in Diego’s hand, dribbles precome out over his fingers. Diego slows down, wet sounds filling the car as he rubs his palm over the head of Klaus’ cock, digs his nail into the slit a little until Klaus lets out a beautiful hurt noise and lifts his hips.

 

“Manners, baby boy.” Diego reminds him, slowing to a complete stop. They’re heading back into town now, nearer Klaus’ house, and there are a few cars dawdling by the side of the road. There will only be more as they get closer. “Unless you want to get out of my car and let everyone see what a whore you are for me, remember your manners. I asked you a question.”

 

“Sorry, sorry, please don’t stop!” Klaus squirms, fingers scrabbling at his seat. “Yeah— _fuck_! It’s good, Diego. Feels— feels really good.”

 

“Diego, huh?” Diego starts again, harder and faster than before. Klaus is panting, watching Diego’s hand move on his dick like he can’t tear his eyes away. “That’s not what you called me the other day.”

 

Diego risks a look away from the road and over at Klaus: the boy looks exquisite, legs spread as far as they can go in the small space and confined as he is by his trousers. His face is flushed pretty pink and his lips look red and sore, kiss bitten. His eyes are half closed and his tongue keeps darting out, wetting his bottom lip. There’s a little hole in his school tie where the cigarette butt burnt the fabric and it makes Diego want to rip off all of his clothes except that tie, spread him out and keep him hard and desperate and wanting.

 

“I— I don’t—” Klaus starts, blush working it’s way down his neck and under his shirt.

 

“Oh, I think you do, baby boy.” Diego interrupts him. A woman walking her dog watches the car as Diego drives past leisurely, squinting her eyes like she can’t quite make out what’s happening inside. Diego pinches the head of Klaus’ dick between his thumb and forefinger just to see his mouth fall open, to feel another spurt of precome hit his fingers.

 

“Your house is at the end of this road, right? You really want to be walking in like this? You think they’ll pay attention to you if they see what a slut their baby really is? Or maybe they’d be upset with you, huh? Maybe they’d see you can’t even follow orders when you’re desperate to come. What do you think, baby boy?” Diego can sense Klaus breaking in the seat next to him, can hear the words before he even speaks them.

 

“Please, _daddy_ ,” He sobs, doing his best to keep his hips still and not thrust into Diego’s hand.

 

“Good boy,” Diego rewards him as Klaus’ house comes into view. “Say it again. Who am I, sweetheart?”

 

“You’re— you’re my daddy.” Klaus sobs. “Fuck, gonna— daddy, I’m gonna come. Please, can I?”

 

“Go on, baby boy.” Diego allows, stroking him through it as he feels the first ropes of come hit his fingers, drip down his palm and smear across his sleeve. “You’ve been so good, you’re such a good boy for your daddy. That’s it, there you go.”

 

Klaus slumps in his seat, head falling back against the seat as his chest rises and falls quickly, trying to catch his breath. His hair is a wild mess of curls and Diego desperately wants to wind his fingers into it, mess it up with the boy’s own come, but Klaus was a good boy and Diego has got to keep his word if he wants the kid to trust him.

 

Instead he reaches over to Klaus’ softening cock and rubs his hand over it lightly, dipping further into Klaus’ trousers and smearing come over his balls. Diego takes his hand back when he notices Klaus twitching with over sensitivity, even though he enjoys how Klaus’ cock feels soft under his palm, how he lets out little pain-pleasure confused whimpers.

 

“Better?” Diego asks, pulling over just up the street from Klaus’ house. He cleans the boy up and tucks him back into his trousers, then uses his other hand to draw Klaus’ face towards him. He kisses him softly this time; it would be tender if Diego didn’t hold Klaus’ face steady by the hinge of his jaw and fuck his tongue into the boy’s mouth.

 

“Yeah. Thank you, daddy.” Klaus answers meekly, looking up at Diego from under his eyelashes. Diego smirks, leans over and opens Klaus’ door for him.

 

“Keep out of trouble, huh baby?” Diego sits at the curb for a while, watching Klaus’ form getting smaller and smaller as he walks away.

 

***

 

When Diego’s phone starts ringing later that evening, his heart sinks. He considers ignoring it, but obviously he can’t do that: he’s expecting it to be Eudora calling him up about another dead body, and if it’s anything like last time Diego wants to be first on the scene. If there’s anything lying around that could point to Klaus, he needs to be there and find it first so he can get rid of the evidence.

 

He’s surprised, however, to see Klaus’ name flash across his screen. He and Klaus have exchanged a few texts over the last week or so, predominantly made up of Diego sending him orders to get himself off in specific ways and and Klaus sending Diego a message after he’s finished, thanking him. Diego’s favourite so far has to be when he snuck away from his desk for a ‘coffee break’, sent Klaus a message saying, ‘ _Get_ _yourself_ _off_. _Now_.’ when he knew the boy would be in a lesson. Klaus had sent him back a picture of himself in the mirror of the school bathroom, cheeks flushed, lips red and cock in his hand, which Diego had saved instantly and may or may not have jerked off to every night since.

 

Because Klaus could be confusing like that: in person he’s shy, timid, submissive. He’s anything and everything Diego tells him to be, and if Diego asked to take a picture of him he would probably try and hide his face in embarrassment. But when they aren’t together, Klaus grows bolder, like maybe he wants to take risks and be naughty and do things he knows he shouldn’t. Diego figures it’s a side effect of this town, of growing up repressed in every single way.

 

So he hurries to pick up the phone and slides across the answer.

 

“Klaus?” He asks expectantly. There’s no answer straight away, just the sound of laboured breathing and quiet sniffles, like Klaus is crying and trying not to make it obvious. “Hey, Klaus, baby. What’s wrong?”

 

It’s… inexplicable: the change that overcomes Diego so completely. One second he’s relaxed and the next he’s on edge, blood red anger already creeping into his vision at the thought of anyone having hurt Klaus. Anyone having touched what’s his, he corrects himself. He should be the only one to have an effect so severe on Klaus.

 

“Diego?” Klaus says after a few seconds, voice thick with tears. “Can— can you come pick me up? I’m outside my house. I had a fight with my dad and— and I can’t go back in there. Not yet. Please?”

 

“I’m on my way,” Diego promises, already grabbing his car keys and his leather jacket from off the edge of the sofa. “Just stay where you are. I’ll be right there.”

 

He probably breaks a fair few laws on his way to pick Klaus up, and definitely gives several old women the fright of their life as he whizzes past them and their flower bushes. His heart is thumping out an unsteady beat in his chest and he’s mind is racing with all the possibilities of what he might find waiting for him. Will Klaus be bruised or bloody? Will he be able to put his father away for abuse? Would Klaus even want him to?

 

In the end it’s fairly anticlimactic. Klaus is hunched over on the curb rubbing his bare arms to keep warm, dressed only in the baggy sweater Diego saw him in the other day and a knee length black skirt. It’s a real shame that now isn’t the time to appreciate how fucking gorgeous Klaus looks; instead he shucks off his jacket and drapes it around Klaus’ shoulders, leads him into the passenger seat with an arm around his waist. When he looks up, he catches sight of Mrs Snow hovering in the window, watching him. When she notices him see her the curtain drops.

 

Diego can’t think about that right now.

 

The car journey is mostly silent, with Klaus giving a brief explanation of what happened and then huddling up in front of the car’s heater.

 

“I asked him to sign the stupid permission slip for the school trip. He wouldn’t - he didn’t even give a reason. I got mad so I just… I went upstairs, and got changed and tried to go out. He saw the skirt and— and he got really angry. He yelled at me and just,” Klaus shakes his head, rubs a hand surreptitiously across his eyes. “I couldn’t stay there.”

 

“What did he say?” Diego asked, hands tightening around the steering wheel.

 

“Called me a fag.” Klaus mutters like he’s embarrassed about it, like him being insulted is somehow his fault. Diego turns in his seat, safety regulations be damned, and grips one of Klaus’ stick-thin wrists until he’s looking up at Diego, wide eyes.

 

“Hey, listen to me.” Diego demands insistently. “You are a fag. And so am I, and so are millions of other people. He can’t use that against you.”

 

Klaus breaks eye contact with him, and okay, maybe that isn’t the best comfort Diego could have provided, but it’s more than his father ever gave him and it’s the only thing he can give right now. The truth.

 

By the time Diego gets them home Klaus’ sniffling has mostly stopped and he’s stopped shivering so much, the goosebumps all over his arms have disappeared.

 

Klaus has never been to Diego’s house, which isn’t really all that surprising considering everything that’s been going on but the boy still treats it like it’s a museum. He takes his shoes off at the door, which is unspeakably cute, and continues to glide around the house in silent awe, trailing his fingers over every surface like it’s an exhibition and he can’t get enough. Diego lets him satiate his curiosity and heads to the kitchen, retrieving a beer and a bottle of wine that was given to him as an arrival present from the precinct.

 

He has no intention of getting Klaus drunk - he has a feeling the kid isn’t going to like the taste of cheap wine - but his tears have almost entirely dried on his face now and if it’ll take his mind off his asshole father than it’s worth a try.

 

“Klaus,” he calls, moving into the sitting room and popping the lid off his beer. He takes a swig and watches as Klaus emerges, tear tracks on his face but otherwise just looking intrigued.

 

“You have a nice house.” He says shyly, looking down. Diego smirks, holds his hand out for the kid to take and pulls him forward when he does. Klaus stumbles a little, puts a hand on Diego’s shoulder to steady himself but falls forward into his lap when Diego curls an arm around his waist and tugs him down. Klaus rolls with it, winding his arms around Diego’s neck and pressing in closer even though his face flushes with embarrassment.

 

“Feeling better now?” Diego murmurs into Klaus’ neck, trailing his lips lazily over the soft, sweat-damp skin there. He smells wonderful, and the way the boy whimpers and fidgets in his lap tells him that, yeah, Klaus is feeling better now. He nods slightly, and Diego can feel his shivering against him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Klaus starts, tightening his arms around Diego’s neck. “I just— I didn’t know who else to call.” _I_ _didn’t_ _have_ _anyone_ _else_ _to_ _call_ , goes unsaid, and Diego slides a hand down his back to rest it on the curve of his ass possessively.

 

“You did the right thing, sweetheart. You’re with me now, okay?” Diego tells him softly, intently, hoping his expression is sincere and not hungry for the way Klaus’ body presses up against him. “And hey, look, I got you something.”

 

Klaus pulls back a little to look at Diego with wide, curious eyes. Diego reaches for the wine, hands it to Klaus. “I figured you could use something to take the edge off, right baby? You need to relax, unwind. You’re so tense.”

 

Diego’s fingers flex over Klaus’ ass and he dugs his fingertips in a little harder. Klaus takes the bottle and inspects it for a minute; then he turns to Diego, all innocent and pretty, and Diego has no idea what’s genuine and what isn’t anymore.

 

“I’ve never had wine before.” He says in a small voice. “What’s it like?”

 

“Gross,” Diego snorts, encouraging Klaus to lift the bottle to his lips. Klaus wrinkles his nose at Diego’s admission but giggles a little anyway, like he’s excited to do anything he thinks he shouldn’t do. Diego traces his thumb over Klaus’ lips, where they’re stretches around the neck of the bottle, and watches in rapt attention as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he takes a swig. When Klaus lowers the bottle his lips and cheeks are red, and his eyes settle on Diego like he’s only just realised he’s there.

 

Diego downs half of his beer in one motion, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and puts both bottles back on the table. He leans forward and captures Klaus’ mouth with his own; the kid tastes fruity and sweet, like the wine he just swallowed, and Diego chases the flavour with his own tongue until Klaus is whimpering and sucking on Diego’s tongue and rocking his hips ever so slightly into Diego’s abdomen. Diego curls his hands under Klaus’ bare thighs where the skirt has ridden up, getting a steady grasp on him before standing. Klaus’ legs wrap around his waist instinctively.

 

“Lets get you upstairs, hmm?” Diego murmurs, nips Klaus’ earlobe. The boy nods, pressing his face against Diego’s neck and legs his tongue trail over the skin there with no rhythm or direction or purpose. He does it like he just loves the taste, and it makes Diego hurry up a little to get them to his bedroom.

 

Diego lays Klaus out on his bed when he finally gets there, flicking the light off where he’d left it on earlier in his panic. The only light is the orange glow from a streetlight outside, and in this light Klaus looks angelic: his skin glows and his eyes glitter. Diego ducks down and kisses him again, trails his lips down Klaus’ throat and over his collar bone until Klaus is arching his back, fingers woven into Diego’s hair and eyes closed in ecstasy.

 

“What do you want, baby boy? You want daddy to make everything go away, huh? To make you feel good?” Diego asks, grins when Klaus nods desperately. “You sure you’re ready to take my cock, sweetheart?”

 

Klaus’ eyes flicker open and lock with Diego’s; very deliberately he nods, hitches his skirt up around his waist and draws his knees up so that he’s even more exposed to Diego. He’s shaking, breathing heavily, nervously. Diego places a wet, open mouthed kiss on the side of his knee before sliding his hands underneath Klaus’ sweater, pushes the fabric over his head and discards it somewhere on the floor. Klaus’ body is beautiful and it’s the first time Diego has actually really seen it, so he wants to take his time appreciating it.

 

Klaus’ stomach is almost scarily flat and Diego could probably count each one of his ribs but his chest is fairly defined, and his nipples are a rosy pink colour: they stand out against his pale skin, hard and pebbled on his chest. Diego ducks down and wraps his lips around one, smiling around it when Klaus lets out a surprised squeak of pleasure. He grazes his teeth over it just barely, rolls the other between his thumb and his index finger until Klaus is trembling from pleasure rather than nerves, until he’s hooked a leg on either side of one of Diego’s thighs and is rutting into him like an animal.

 

“You like that, baby boy? Like when I play with your tits?” Diego coos, high pitched like he’s baby talking. Klaus shudders and nods emphatically, both hands on the back of Diego’s head trying to pull him forward to carry on. Diego removes them and holds them in his own hands, directing them over his head. He pins Klaus’ wrists to the pillow above his head and, when he takes his hand away after a few seconds, he’s delighted to see that Klaus keeps them there.

 

“Good boy,” he murmurs, already half distracted by the sight of Klaus’ cock, hard and curved prettily over his stomach. He rubs the base of his palm over it, watches as it twitches and fills out a little more.

 

“Gonna make sure you always remember this, baby.” Diego tells him determinedly, crawling further down the bed until Klaus’ thighs are bracketed around his head. Diego nuzzles into Klaus’ ass, bites the skin there and then gently uses his thumbs to spread his cheeks. Klaus cries out when Diego blows cool air over his hole, thumbs the rim.

 

“First of all I’m gonna get you all wet for me,” Diego tells him, licking the tip of his finger and tapping it once, twice, over Klaus’ entrance. “Gonna lick you out until you’re crying. Then I’m going to make you come on my fingers. _Then_ , baby boy, I’m gonna get my cock inside you and fuck you until you come again. Does that sound good?”

 

Klaus is gasping now, jerking forwards and back, confused as to whether he wants to escape Diego’s intruding fingers or bear down on them until they slide right in.

 

“Yes daddy.” Klaus swallows, hands curling around the pillow above his head for something solid to hold onto.

 

Diego doesn’t hesitate: he licks a long, flat stripe over Klaus’ hole, sucks on the rim and keeps his cheeks spread until he can wriggle just the tip of his tongue inside. Klaus _moans_ , and if Diego were the type to give a shit about his neighbours being disturbed he’d probably gag the boy right about now. The thought isn’t entirely unappealing, but he’s about to take Klaus’ virginity and the boy should be able to make as much noise as he wants this time.

 

Klaus is riding Diego’s face - saliva dripping down Diego’s chin, Klaus’ hole worked wet and loose so that he can almost slip his whole tongue inside - by the time Diego pushes his fingertips inside. It slides in easily with how wet the whole area is, so he pushes in all the way up to the second knuckle. Klaus shakes and chokes out a breathy sigh, like he’s been aching for Diego to fill him up.

 

“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” Diego asks, genuinely curious, fucking his finger in and out of Klaus’ hole rhythmically without any real purpose. Klaus bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, hair bouncing on the pillow.

 

“No,” he gasps. When Diego clamps his teeth into Klaus’ upper thigh Klaus whines and says, “No, daddy.”

 

“Then this should be fun.” That’s all the warning Diego gives before he crooks his finger and pushes hard against Klaus’ prostate. Klaus’ hips jump without warning and there’s half a second of surprised silence before he lets out a moan like it’s been ripped from his lungs. Diego snickers, keeps licking round the rim as he slides a second finger in. This one puts up a little more resistance and has to spit directly onto Klaus’ hole and spread it around a little before he can work it the whole way in. He scissors his fingers gently but firmly, opens the boy up so he can fuck his tongue in deeper.

 

“Daddy,” Klaus breathes, and when Diego looks up his mouth is hanging open, lips shiny with spit. “Please.”

 

“Go on then, sweetheart.” Diego permits, taking Klaus’ dick in his other hand and stroking him only once before he’s coming all over his own stomach, hole clenching around Diego’s fingers before his whole body goes lax and malleable. Diego is ripping off his own t-shirt and sweatpants as quickly as he can, fumbles for the half empty bottle of lube he knows is in his bedside table. He squeezes a fair amount into the palm of his hand and slicks up his cock as quickly as possible. He’s been verging on hard ever since he picked Klaus up from school, and he can’t wait any longer.

 

He lines the tip of his cock up with Klaus’ hole, glances up at the boy’s face.

 

“Ready?” Diego asks, and doesn’t wait for a reply before he pushes forward, slides inch by inch inside Klaus’ body. It’s incredible: wet, hot, tight heat around him so fully that it feels like he can barely breathe. Diego doesn’t pause until he’s all the way in, hips flush against Klaus’ ass.

 

When Diego looks down at Klaus, the sight takes his breath away all over again. He’s practically folded in half, ankles crossed around Diego’s waist, arms still held above his head, flushed all the way from his cheeks to his chest, nipples redder than usual from Diego’s teeth and tongue. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, his mouth hangs open in pleasure-pain and his cock is hardening all over again, filling out right in front of Diego’s eyes.

 

“Daddy,” Klaus breathes, looking right into Diego’s eyes, but it’s not a precursor to anything so much as it’s a plea. To stop, to start, Diego doesn’t ask. Instead he gets a hand on either side of Klaus’ skinny hips and pulls almost all the way out, thrusting back in deep and slow. Klaus chokes on his next breath, digs his heels into the small of Diego’s back as though urging him to go faster.

 

“How does it feel, baby?” Diego murmurs, hot and low against Klaus’ lips. He nips the boy’s bottom lip just for the hell of it, fucks into him again and again until he can feel himself getting lost in the motion, chasing the sensation.

 

“Feels… full.” Klaus tells him, voice strained. Diego slides his hands up Klaus’ sides, up his face and into his hair, cradles the back of his head and keeps thrusting until he feels the familiar, warm pressure building up low, rising gradually. He guides Klaus’ head upwards, brushes their lips together.

 

“Want you to remember this, Klaus.” Diego grunts in between sucking marks into the boy’s jaw. “Want you to remember how it feels, how good I fuck you. No one’ll fuck you better than me, Klaus. I _own_ you now.” He whispers this last bit into the kid’s mouth but he knows Klaus hears it, because his back arches and he comes a second time, completely untouched. Diego cries out, the only time he’s properly let himself show how affected he is this whole time.

 

He fucks Klaus through his orgasm, keeps thrusting until his legs have slipped from around Diego’s waist and his hands have gone limp. “ _Klaus_ ,” he can’t keep himself from saying, curses himself as soon as the name has left his mouth, but then Klaus whispers back, “Daddy,” just as reverently, and Diego is done for.

 

Diego comes deep inside Klaus, fucks the boy through his own orgasm and stays inside him until he’s almost entirely soft. When he slips out of Klaus’ body a rush of come leaks from his hole and Diego catches it where it drips down, pushes it back inside and keeps it plugged there with two of his fingers.

 

“You know,” Diego murmurs conversationally, two fingers moving in and out of Klaus’ hole shallowly, wet sounds and heavy breathing filling the room. Klaus doesn’t so much as squirm. “I want to take you to New York.”

 

Klaus stirs, spreads his legs for Diego to have better access and props himself up on an elbow to stare down at him. “Really?” He asks, wide eyed and excited. Diego has to fight off a smile at how genuinely pleased he looks.

 

“Really.” He replies. “When’s your chemistry trip? I’ll sign you out of school that day, you won’t even miss class.”

 

“This Friday. You’d have to copy my father’s signature. I’d have to tell Mr Jenkins I was going to school instead, and then I’d have to tell the school I was staying at home.” Klaus tells him doubtfully, like maybe each new revelation will be the thing to change Diego’s mind.

 

“I thought he was your biology teacher?” Diego asks, exhausted and not really paying attention.

 

“He’s covering chemistry as well.” He answers. “Our chemistry teacher hasn’t been in for a couple of weeks now. I’d have to tell my parents… I don’t know. That I’ll be at a friend’s house?”

 

“Do it,” Diego tells him, sliding his fingers out of Klaus and crawling up the bed again. He settles down on his back, pulls Klaus towards him. The boy hesitates a little as though he’s not sure he’s allowed to be doing any of this, that any second someone will jump out and tell him that none of this is real, but eventually he lays his head down on Diego’s bare chest and curls an arm over his waist.

 

“Thank you,” He says quietly after a few minutes, placing a chaste kiss on Diego’s chest, over his heart. “For everything. Thank you.”

 

Diego doesn’t reply. Instead he strokes a hand over Klaus’ hair comfortingly until his breathing has evened out and he falls asleep right there on Diego’s chest. It’s painfully adorable and it feels like a sharp stab through Diego’s ribcage to think that someone could take this all away from him. There are so many risks - the murderer, Klaus’ dealer, Klaus’ parents, his own commanding officer back in New York. Diego has never given a fuck about risks before - it’s why he ended up here, after all - but then he never thought he’d find something worth being careful for.

 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers into Klaus’ hair, and hopes the boy doesn’t hear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any of you watched Glee? Cause I’m picturing Kurt Hummel levels of excitement for Klaus

It feels like it takes forever for Klaus’ parents to leave for work, but in reality Diego probably only has to wait ten minutes before he can park the car, traipse down the sidewalk and knock on Klaus’ front door. It opens straight away, like the kid was sitting on the stairs waiting for him to arrive, and it brings a smile to Diego’s face that he can’t be bothered to hide.

 

“You ready?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe as Klaus swings a heavy looking rucksack over his shoulder. The kid nods enthusiastically, smile splitting his face in half, so Diego holds the door open for him and leads him to the car.

 

Diego isn’t sure how well Klaus’ parents have taken the excuse of him staying with a ‘friend’, but he’s made reservations at a fucking five star hotel so they’re staying the night whether they like it or not. Diego hasn’t got any solid plans, but he wants to show Klaus all the best parts of New York. All the things the kid should be seeing, instead of being stuck in this dead-end town being told he’s good for nothing.

 

He’d called Allison earlier this morning, asked her to set something up for dinner so that they could get everyone in one room. He’s not sure about the others, but he has a feeling Klaus and Allison will get on like a house on fire.

 

The car journey doesn’t take too long, it’s only about a two hour drive, and Klaus’ jittering excitement makes it seem like even less time. He fires questions off at Diego faster than Diego can answer until eventually Diego silences him with a firm but amiable, “Shut it, baby boy, let me concentrate.” When they finally arrive, it feels like hardly any time has passed at all.

 

The hotel really is incredible, even though the people at the front desk observe Diego with calculated suspicion - and definitely disapproval - as he places a hand on the small of Klaus’ back and leads him towards the elevator. Klaus is giddy next to him, practically vibrating on the spot, and by the time Diego has scanned their room card and shut the door behind him Klaus is all but shaking with excitement.

 

The room is large, with a luxurious looking bathroom and one soft, plushy bed in the centre of the floor. Hanging on the wall opposite is a flat screen TV above a desk piled with magazines and complimentary chocolate. There are floor to ceiling windows all along one side of the room, displaying a view of New York City that Klaus just eats the fuck up. The kid drops his bag at the door, rushing to the windows and pressing his hands up against the glass like an overenthusiastic child who’s been let loose in public for the first time ever. His fingers leave sticky marks on the glass, and Diego wants to lick them clean.

 

“Having fun?” Diego smirks, sitting down at the end of the bed with a sigh. He kicks his shoes off and leans back on his hands, just watching Klaus turn around and take in everything in awe. “Better than some dumb fuck chemistry trip, right?”

 

Klaus beams at him so widely that it’s contagious, that Diego can’t help but grin back.

 

“So much better, Diego.” He agrees excitedly. His eye catches on the row of complimentary shampoos and body washes and he jumps up and down on the balls of his feet, turning a pleading gaze on Diego.

 

“I wanna take a shower.” He exclaims, and the way he says it to Diego, as though asking for the man’s permission before he can do anything, gets Diego hot.

 

“Already?” He replies, sitting up a little straighter and spreading his knees in anticipation. “But you aren’t even dirty yet.” Klaus turns his head to stare at Diego, chest still heaving from his excitement and now eyes wide with blown pupils, dark and heady directed straight at him. This is a signal, Diego recognises, that Klaus is feeling frisky.

 

“You could, um,” Klaus starts, wrapping an arm around his own waist and looking down at his feet shyly, like Diego hasn’t already seen every gorgeous inch there is to see. “You could come with me, if you wanted?” He rushes through this last bit like the words are so embarrassing to get out they’re actually painful, and when he looks up at Diego to see the man’s reaction his hair bobs, curls bouncing.

 

Diego stretches out an arm, wiggles his fingers in Klaus’ general direction until the boy shuffles towards him and takes his hand. He tugs him forwards so that Klaus is standing in between Diego’ spread legs. Diego’s hands slide up Klaus’ body to rest on his hips, and the boy settles his hands over both of Diego’s shoulders.

 

“How about,” Diego suggests lowly, thumbs rubbing circles into the skin of Klaus’ hips. “I dirty you up a bit, then I take you in there and clean you off. How does that sound?”

 

Klaus’ mouth hangs open for a beat of silence, then he’s surging forwards; he doesn’t knock their foreheads together this time, thankfully, because Diego meets him halfway. Klaus’ mouth is already open and panting and he tastes so, so sweet that Diego can’t resist sliding his tongue in there straight away. He holds Klaus steady with a hand spread wide over the hinge of his jaw down to the side of his neck and licks into his mouth until spit and drool drips down Klaus’ chin. When Diego pulls back a string of saliva connects their mouths, and Klaus’ face is so close that he can feel the boy’s breath across his lips.

 

“You hard, baby boy?” He asks, his free hand slipping up the inside of Klaus’ thigh and squeezing his cock through the fabric just on the right side of too hard. Klaus gasps, squirms in Diego’s armsand nods his head imperceptibly. Diego sneers.

 

“Course you are. Sluts are always hard, isn’t that right sweetheart?” Klaus bites his bottom lip and lets his eyes slip shut, subconsciously angling his hips further into Diego’s hand. Diego squeezes him again, draws a pretty, pained moan out of Klaus. His voice is steely when he repeats, “Isn’t that _right_ , sweetheart?”

 

“Yes, daddy.” Klaus whispers, not bothering to brush his hair away when it falls in his eyes. He doesn’t resist when Diego pulls him forward, just falls into his body and clambers onto the bed beside him, gets a knee on either side of Diego’ spread thighs. Diego grips the back of the boy’s neck, drags his nails down Klaus’ back in a way that must surely sting.

 

“What are you?” Diego asks very sweetly, deft hand unzipping Klaus’ trousers and working his cock out of his underwear, coaxing it to full hardness. Diego loves how responsive Klaus is just from Diego’ hand on his dick, loves the way he shudders and cries and the way his erection twitches in Diego’s hand.

 

“I’m a slut.” Klaus sobs into Diego’s neck, hips moving in small circles in and out of Diego’s fist. He strokes Klaus off slowly until he’s desperate and panting, knows that he’ll have Klaus eating out of his hand if it means he’ll be allowed to come sooner.

 

“Whose?” Diego hisses, weaving his fingers into Klaus’ curls and yanking his head back to expose his pale, unmarked neck. Diego wants to change that immediately so he buries his face in the juncture between the boy’s shoulder and throat, sucks at the skin with his teeth and tongue until Klaus has a cluster of purple-blue bruises that will last at least a few days.

 

“Yours!” Klaus says. “Your slut. Only for you, daddy, please, I’m your slut. Just yours. Please.” Diego would bet money that Klaus doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore, not really, is just spitting words in his desperation to get off. Diego pinches the base of his cock until he stills with a gasp, licks flat across his face.

 

“I’d say you’re pretty fucking filthy now, huh?” He grins meanly, lopsidedly. “What do you say we clean you up a little? Can’t have everyone seeing how desperate you are.”

 

Klaus nods with teary eyes, eyelashes clumped together with moisture. He jumps when Diego tells him to jump though, wraps his legs around Diego’s waist as he carries the boy into the bathroom and sits him down on the edge of the bathtub. Diego unbuttons his shirt slowly, tosses it aside when it’s done and slips his trousers off just as easily, smiling at the way Klaus’ eyes take in every inch of him. The kid blushes like the sight of a totally naked man offends his delicate sensibilities, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away.

 

“Strip for me, honey.” Diego coos, turning the water on hot. It’s warm straight away - you really do get what you pay for, Diego thinks, sparing a mournful thought for his bank account - and he steps under the spray. It’s a delicious pressure on his back and he flicks his wet hair back, smooths it down. He’s not going to miss Klaus stripping on command because his hair got in his eyes.

 

Klaus is biting his lip as he kicks off his socks, criss crosses his arms over his chest when he pulls off his t-shirt. It messes up his already messy hair and Diego doesn’t know whether he wants to tug on it cruelly or bury his face in it. Klaus is still blushing when he pushes his jeans down past his knees and over his feet. He spares a coy glance at Diego that from anyone else Diego would have found painfully staged but from Klaus seems perfectly natural, before he turns with his back to the shower and bends in half. He rolls his boxers over his ass and down his legs with his spine arched, ass on display. Diego swallows, takes his cock in his hand and strokes a few times without even thinking about it.

 

“Get in here,” he orders in a gravelly, turned on voice. Klaus trips over his own feet in his haste. He seems so small when he’s standing next to Diego, petite frame and skinny hips polar opposites to Diego’s broad shoulders and muscular arms. Klaus’ hair gets plastered to his forehead almost immediately, and Diego tucks it back. His hands slide down naturally to both of Klaus’ cheeks, pulls his face towards him and kisses him like he owns him all over again. Klaus’ wet skin glides against his own and Diego can feel the boy’s cock against his stomach, hard and wet and insistent.

 

Diego crowds Klaus in against the wall with an arm on either side of his head; he reaches behind the boy for the small bottle of body wash and squeezes a fair amount into his palm. “Gotta clean you up,” he tells Klaus, turning him around by his shoulders so that his hands are pressed up against the wall of the shower, his cheek is flush against the cool tile. “Gotta make sure you’re clean everywhere for me, baby boy. Especially here.”

 

Diego doesn’t waste any time slicking up his fingers and nudging his fingertips at the boy’s entrance, a sick glee settling in his chest at the way the muscle quivers. His middle finger slides in easily all the way up to the second knuckle and he fucks it in and out for a while, getting the kid used to the sensation all over again. He crooks his knuckle and lets his fingertips drag against Klaus’ prostate, sharp and brilliant until he lets out a wet, needy moan.

 

“Quiet, sweetheart. Don’t want everyone knowing how much you love getting fucked.” Diego chastises him, even though he honestly doesn’t give a fuck who hears.He doesn’t care if the whole floor knows he can get Klaus off like this, that it only takes one finger to have him writhing and coming against the bathroom wall. In all honesty, he doesn’t expect anyone would be able to hear him anyway.

 

All the same, Diego gets his hand tight over Klaus’ mouth so that any sounds he makes will be muffled and quiet. They’re both drenched, the water washing away the sweat as quickly as it can appear, by the time Diego gets a second finger in. Klaus keens when he pulls one out and thrusts two in at the same time, catching his sensitive rim and stretching him out. Diego is desperate himself, desperate to just pull his fingers out and get his dick in that tight, warm space. But he has to take his time with Klaus: Klaus is delicate and needy, wants nothing more than to be a good boy, and he’ll see any pain that Diego inflicts upon him as a punishment. He’ll get confused and upset and Diego will have to spend the better part of half an hour coaxing him out of his frigid shell again.

 

No, Klaus has to be dealt with much more carefully than that. The way to get to Klaus is sweet words and harsh touches, strict rules and rewards every time he obeys them. The way to get to Klaus, Diego has learnt, is to give the boy the attention from his daddy that he’s always wanted and never had from the real source.

 

He has to pull both fingers out of Klaus’ hole in order to lather them with more lotion before he can press three in, but it’s worth it for the way Klaus’ spine arches and he humps back onto Diego’s fingers. Diego snickers against the back of Klaus’ neck, fucks Klaus on three long, thick fingers until his hole is gaping and puffy. Only then, when he’s shaking and looking about a chaste kiss away from coming, does Diego twist his fingers out and line the tip of his cock up with the boy’s entrance.

 

“Deep breath, baby boy.” Diego instructs, laying one hand flat over Klaus’ hand up against the wall, using the other one to guide himself into Klaus’ body. It’s just as fucking fantastic as the first time; Klaus is just as tight, just as warm inside. It’s fascinating to Diego, how Klaus’ body can open and _take_ it just the way Diego wants him to, but can mould around his cock like their bodies are connected. One day Diego hopes to get his entire fist inside Klaus, see if his hole will stretch around Diego’s wrist the way it does for his cock.

 

He thrusts, deep and fast and controlled, into Klaus’ body until the boy has stopped letting out broken moans and is instead just panting wetly against Diego’s palm.

 

“Please,” Klaus is breathing, sobbing, almost inaudible over the sound of the rushing water and Diego’s own laboured breathing. “Daddy, please, gonna come. It hurts, daddy.”

 

Diego slides his hand away from Klaus’ mouth - knows that he won’t make a sound, isn’t capable of it anymore - and wraps it instead around the boy’s throat. Klaus chokes on his next breath; his mouth hangs open and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down under Diego’s palm, trying and failing to gulp in air. Diego grinds against his ass, and he swears he can feel the tip of his cock brush against Klaus’ prostate over and over again. He can feel his orgasm approaching like a wave about to crash.

 

“You wanna come, baby boy?” Diego asks mockingly, squeezing his throat so that he physically can’t reply, can’t even moan. His head thrashes wildly like he’s trying to nod but Diego’s vice like grip around his neck is preventing him. He holds him tight, fucks into him once again, and leans in close to his into his ear. “Then come.”

 

Klaus falls apart when he comes, body going loose and lax all over so that Diego has to hook his forearm under the boy’s waist to stop him from slipping over. His cock jerks untouched and sprays come over the shower wall. When Diego removes his hand from around Klaus’ neck, he gulps in air like he’s been drowning for it, and the rush of air combined with the aftershocks of his orgasm has him tightening around Diego’s dick.

 

Diego cries out, can’t stop himself, and fucks Klaus through his own orgasm. When they’ve both caught their breath, Diego pulls out gingerly and fumbles for body wash— this time for real.

 

“Better get yourself washed up, hmm?” Diego says between breaths. “There’s someone I want you to meet tonight.”

 

***

 

‘Someone’ turns out to be many people, and by the time they show up late to the restaurant his four siblings are already seated at the table, menus in front of them. Klaus stops mid stride, eyes going wide and hand fumbling for Diego’s hand next to him. Diego takes it, lets Klaus squeeze his fingers anxiously before he rubs a comforting hand over the boy’s back.

 

“Easy, sweetheart.” He mutters under his breath, forcibly propelling Klaus forward. “They’re just my family. If anyone upsets you I’ll deal with them, okay? You trust me, don’t you baby boy?”

 

Klaus swallows, looks up at Diego with Bambi eyes before nodding silently. Diego kisses his forehead and leads him up to the table, pulling a chair out for him before sitting next to him.

 

“Hey, guys.” Diego greets them, fingernails digging into Klaus’ wrist under the table. “This is Klaus.” He doesn’t bother introducing each individual sibling to Klaus, because the only one he actually cares about talking to Klaus is Allison and she’s sitting opposite the kid, awkward smile frozen on her face. Five, still wearing that ridiculous shorts-and-tie combo, catches Diego’s eye and raises an eyebrow judgementally. Diego gets the urge to stick his tongue out at him.

 

“Klaus, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Allison.” Allison speaks up at exactly the same time as Luther says, “Diego, you’re late.” Klaus looks between the three of them, swallows nervously and when it becomes clear that Diego isn’t going to reply, smiles at Allison.

 

“You— you too.” He stammers, cheeks flushing like taking Diego’s cock up his ass is nothing compared to meeting his family. Diego has to admit, this is pretty out of character for him, but he consoles himself with the thought that he just wanted to show Klaus off to anyone he could, and this was the safest option. Allison’s smile becomes a little more genuine and she shares a look with Vanya as if to say, ‘aww.’

 

“So, Diego,” Vanya kickstarts the conversation at the table. “How’s the countryside treating you?”

 

They lapse into sometimes comfortable, sometimes stilted conversation after that. Each time Diego looks over at Klaus it seems like the boy is captured in half conversation with Allison and Luther, which sort of sets his nerves on edge but also releases something loose and warm in his chest.

 

Halfway through the meal Diego turns to Klaus and tuts. “Honestly, kid.” He tunes down the nicknames for Klaus’ sake, because he wouldn’t mind acting shamelessly in front of his siblings but he feels like Klaus would be opposed to it. “Can’t even eat on your own, can you?” He takes a folded napkin and dabs the side of Klaus’ mouth, even though there’s barely anything there. Klaus blushes and his eyes turn downcast; there are a series of awkward exchanged looks between Luther and Allison. Diego scrapes his chair against the floor as he stands up.

 

“I’m going for a piss.” Diego excuses himself.

 

“I’ll join you.” Five replies, leaving no room for argument. Diego waits until they’re well away from the others before he talks again; funnily enough, discussing his sex life with his fifteen year old brother is not high up on his to do list. Discussing Klaus, though…

 

Well, no one can blame him for wanting to discuss Klaus.

 

“So?” Diego breaks eventually, when it becomes obvious that Five isn’t going to make the first move. He’s an asshole like that, always has been, even though Diego was only just about to move out when a three year old Five moved in. Their adoptive father took a special interest in Five from such an early age - which probably explains why he’s such a little bitch, actually - but when the old man died and Luther moved back into the empty old house to take care of him, he seemed to soften a little. It reminded them all, Diego thinks, of why they care so much for their baby brother.

 

And it’s weird thinking of Five as his baby brother, because Diego is not and never has been a nurturing person, but Five caught the tail end of the rest of their abuse. Five didn’t even get to meet Ben before everything that happened, for God’s sake, and so the thought of leaving him alone with Reginald was unacceptable to all of them.

 

“So, what?” Five asks, innocently.

 

“What do you think of him?” Diego growls, rolling his eyes. Five watches impassively as Diego uses the urinal, which would be unnerving if it was anyone else, but Five is always unnerving so he doesn’t really pay it much mind.

 

“He’s nice.” Five shrugs, then catches Diego’s eye with a sharp glint to his own. “Maybe we could meet up some time, help each other with our homework.”

 

Diego fakes a smile, lets it fade from his face almost immediately. “Very funny.” He says sarcastically. “But now you mention it, are you any good at chemistry? He’s sort of missing a school trip right now.”

 

Five scoffs. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, Diego. No one wants a repeat of the academy two-point-oh fiasco.”

 

Diego is about to reply irritatedly, but Five leaves the bathroom without another word. Asshole didn’t even take a piss.

 

***

 

By the time they leave the restaurant it’s already getting dark. Klaus is smiling and laughing and wine drunk - because whilst Luther and Vanya had watched reproachfully, Allison had aided and abetted him in plying Klaus with expensive wine all night - so Diego doesn’t really want the night to end.

 

Allison hugs Klaus, whispers something in his ear that makes the boy giggle, and then looks to Diego. “He’s cute.” She grins. “Buy him something pretty. He deserves it.”

 

The others leave in a haze of ‘goodbyes’ and teary hugs. Luther gives him a stilted pat on the back and tells Diego they should keep in touch more, but Diego respects Five more for scowling at him whenever he touches Klaus, because at least he’s honest about what he thinks. When he turns back to look at Klaus, the boy is staring into a space just to the left of Diego’s shoulder with rapt attention, with the same expression that Vanya gets when she listens to a really good violin solo. Diego dismisses it, figuring Klaus is just tipsy and spaced out.

 

“Hey,” Diego hums, stroking Klaus’ cheek with the backs of his fingers. “What are you thinking?” He feels it in his core like an all encompassing need, burning him up from the inside out: it’s like he needs to know what goes on in Klaus’ head all the time, needs it in order to understand him. 

 

Klaus hums, blinks back into focus and smiles dopily at Diego. “Allison’s really nice. She gave me a bunch of fashion tips. She said I had pretty hair.”

 

Diego grins, shark like. “You do have pretty hair.” He agrees, twirling a strand around his finger, and thinks about what Allison had said to him before she left. An idea occurs to him, and he feels heat pooling low in his stomach. “Hey, you wanna go shopping?”

 

Klaus blinks, surprised. “Now?” He asks. “I didn’t bring any money.”

 

Diego dismisses this with a wave of his hand. He brushes Klaus’ lips with his own, rubs his hands over Klaus’ sides lightly, and enjoys the way Klaus looks up at him with something that resembles hero worship in his eyes. Besides, he kind of likes the idea of Klaus being dependent on him, like Klaus is Diego’s responsibility.

 

“Your skirt was real pretty, baby boy.” Diego murmurs lowly. “But wouldn’t you like something more… suitable?” Diego circles his fingertips under Klaus’ t-shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them.

 

“What— what do you mean?” Klaus replies, voice weak. He stumbles into Diego’s body, hands flying up to rest on the man’s bicep for support. Diego leans down and nips the shell of his ear, traces the tip of his tongue over the sore spot.

 

“Something sluttier.” Diego breathes. “Something that shows off your whore body. That would suit you better, wouldn’t it sweetheart?” Klaus shudders in his arms, and it’s so risky. They’re right there out in the open for anyone to see, for anyone to see the way Diego can play Klaus’ body so easily, to see that it only takes a few choice words for Klaus to fall apart. All Diego needs to do is call him a good boy, rough him up a little and Klaus will melt.

 

But when Klaus presses himself further into Diego’s body - when Diego feels the hard line of Klaus’ cock against his thigh - he knows that there’s no way he’d ever try and stop this. Klaus is his, and fuck whatever Five or Luther or Vanya think.

 

Klaus is his, and that’s all there is to it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you guys want a sequel to this? Or like a retelling but from Klaus’ perspective? Cause I really want to get more into Diego’s backstory after it’s over but I also kind of want to get into Klaus’ head so... which would you prefer? Or both? Or neither?? <3


	8. Chapter 8

Diego buys him a skirt. 

 

It’s not a particularly expensive one, but Klaus picks it out himself from a boutique in downtown New York that stays open late, and when he pokes his head out of the changing room shyly and beckons Diego to come in because he doesn’t want people to see, Diego knows he has to buy it for him.

 

It’s black cotton with an elastic waistband that accentuates the way Klaus’ waist curves, and it fans out so that the hemline sits a respectful distance above his knees; when he twirls it fans up around his thighs. He looks beautiful, angelic; with his mess of dark curls and big eyes and his ghostly pale skin it almost seems like he’s illuminated against the night sky.

 

He wears it out of the store in a surprising but welcomed display of courage, hangs off Diego’s arm as they traipse around the city, Diego pointing out places he used to visit as a kid. Klaus eats the tourist attractions up, and Diego can’t help feeling that this is where a boy like Klaus belongs.

 

When Klaus’ feet start dragging along the floor and his yawning becomes more and more frequent, Diego takes him back to the hotel. He’s sleepy and pliant when they get to their room, still fucked open from earlier in the shower, so when Diego places a hand on his shoulder blade and pushes him forward, he bends over with both hands pressed against the floor to ceiling windows. Diego fucks him in the skirt and nothing else, long strokes in and out until Klaus’ breath fogs up the glass: when Diego looks out at the view, the New York skyline twinkling with light and life, he thinks maybe he sees the beauty Klaus sees in it too.

 

When they’re finished, Diego drifts into the bathroom to clean himself off and leaves Klaus sprawled out on the bed. He’s just finished brushing his teeth when he hears muffled speaking: Klaus’ voice saying words he can’t quite make out. He rounds the corner back into the bedroom, and Klaus turns to look at him suddenly.

 

“Who you talking to?” He asks, joining Klaus in bed. If the kid was on the phone, if he was telling anyone about this, about them… Diego is fucked.

 

“No one.” Klaus responds simply. Diego frowns, traces the V of his hips with a fingertip until Klaus squirms from the ticklish feeling. “Honest!”

 

“Where’s your phone?” Diego raises an eyebrow in chastisement until Klaus groans, looks like he’s fighting back the urge to roll his eyes. He grabs it off the bedside table and slaps it into Diego’s outstretched palm with a dramatic flair. Diego glances at it, and then at Klaus sharply. It’s flashing with the ‘no charge’ symbol: there’s no way Klaus could have been talking to anyone on this. His mind drifts back to the unopened bottle of pills in Klaus’ dresser, the diagnosis he had looked up later, Klaus’ classmate’s words. _He_ _used_ _to_ _talk_ _to_ _himself_ _a_ _lot_ _when_ _we_ _were_ _kids_.

 

He slips Klaus’ phone into his coat pocket and promptly forgets about it.

 

Afterwards they lie in bed, Klaus draped in one of Diego’s t-shirts but otherwise completely naked, Diego throws an arm around the kid and lets him huddle closer, despite the whole scene ringing warning bells in his head.

 

“Diego?” Klaus murmurs, eyes already shut. “Who’s Ben?”

 

Diego stiffens but Klaus doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too tired, head resting on Diego’s bare chest, each exhale blowing cool air over his nipple ring sensitively.

 

“My brother.” He gets out after a beat of silence, unsure why he’s even telling Klaus the truth. He hasn’t talked about Ben in years - not even with his siblings - but with Klaus he finds that he couldn't stop the words from spilling out even if he wanted to. Maybe this talk is long overdue. “He died when we were your age.”

 

He expects Klaus to apologise or tell him how horrible that is, tell him that he shouldn’t blame himself when in reality they were all to blame. But Klaus just sighs happily, nuzzles his cheek closer against Diego’s chest.

 

“Makes sense.” He murmurs sleepily. “I get it now.”

 

Diego frowns, perplexed, because what does that even mean? “Did Luther tell you that?” He asks, and gets no response. “Hey, Klaus. Did Luther tell you that?”

 

But Klaus is already asleep.

 

 ***

 

They’re in the car when Diego gets the call; he’s driving them home, because as much as he wants to keep Klaus for the whole weekend his parents will get too suspicious and that can only lead to trouble for them both. They’re about half an hour away from town and are making pretty good progress along the main road - Klaus has been fidgeting in his seat the whole fucking time, and when asked about it he just blushes and looks at Diego in such a way that lets the man know he’s still feeling it from the night before - when Diego’s phone starts to buzz in his pocket.

 

“Fuck,” he mutters, not taking his hands off the steering wheel. “Klaus, can you get that? Just slide to answer and put it on speaker.” Diego instructs, watching in satisfaction as Klaus follows his orders without complaint. He balances the phone on the dashboard and there’s a faint clicking before Eudora’s voice crackles over the speaker.

 

“Diego? Diego, are you there?” She asks urgently, frustratedly, like maybe this isn’t the first time she’s called. He’d ask Klaus to check his voicemail but it’s too late now. He’ll just have to go with it and pretend he’s been too busy to look at his phone. Technically it isn’t a lie.

 

“Yeah, I’m here detective.” He calls, glancing at Klaus and putting a finger to his lips, as if the boy needs reminding. Klaus smiles acquiescently, so sweet that Diego wants to pull off the road and touch him all over. “What’s going on?”

 

“There’s been another one.” Diego’s stomach drops, and Klaus’ smile falls from his face. He wonders if he should take Eudora off speaker but he can’t hold his cell to his ear right now and there’s no place to pull over as far as he can see. Klaus looks between the phone and Diego anxiously, hands curling into fists underneath the sleeves of his sweater.

 

“Talk to me.” Diego commands, voice changed in an instant from casual to professional. “Everything I need to know.”

 

“This one’s different,” Eudora starts. Diego can hear her footsteps echoing as she walks and the familiar humdrum of the precinct, no doubt kicked into chaos by the latest discovery. “A woman, estimated early thirties. Completely clean, no drugs. We’re not sure how long she’s been dead but her body was… fairly decomposed, and there was no ritualistic setting. Couple of joggers found her body in the woods: we’re waiting on her dental records to give us an ID. How soon can you get here?”

 

“Give me forty five minutes.” Diego answers. “Cause of death?”

 

“Blunt force trauma.” Eudora tells him grimly. “Someone crushed her skull.”

 

Diego takes one hand away from the wheel to hang up without another word. He wants to sit back in his seat - he’s reeling from this new information and Klaus is fidgeting in the seat next to him, obviously uncomfortable - but his back is frozen ramrod straight. He takes the first exit he can see, pulling into a lay-by off the road and parking the car haphazardly. Ignoring the stares of curious passengers as their cars roll past, he turns to Klaus.

 

“What do you know?” He asks, voice steely. He’s not going in blind this time, not going to let anything take him by surprise. If Klaus knows anything at all, he’s going to get it out of the boy.

 

“Nothing!” Klaus stammers, hands automatically coming up as though in surrender. “Diego, I swear. I had no idea, I don’t even know who that is!”

 

Diego unbuckles first himself, then Klaus, leaning over the boy and holding him still by the neck. Klaus freezes, pulse fluttering erratically under Diego’s fingers. Despite everything, Klaus is still afraid of him.

 

Good, Diego thinks. It’s better than him growing soft, letting himself trust a man who will never be what he probably wants him to be. Diego can take care of Klaus, can fuck him and protect him when he slits dead men’s throats, but he needs everything in return. He needs to own Klaus completely for that to happen, and ownership and fear go hand in hand.

 

“You didn’t find her body? Don’t know anything about it?” Diego asks, hand squeezing, voice low and urgent. Klaus shakes his head, eyes wide and sincere. “You didn’t wake up there, get confused? Didn’t bash her fucking head in?”

 

A tear rolls down Klaus’ cheek and Diego follows it with his tongue. He’s scaring the boy and he knows it, but this is necessary as far as Diego is concerned. Klaus needs to know, needs to understand, that all of this is for his own good. Diego is only trying to protect him, from everything but Diego himself.

 

“Please, Diego, I promise.” He stutters, chest rising and falling with weak, half cries.

 

“You promise?” Diego sneers. Klaus nods his head desperately. “How can I trust your promises? How can you even trust yourself? You’re psycho, right? You don’t take your medication, lie to everyone, say it’s getting better.”

 

“How do you—” Klaus looks up, startled. Diego yanks his head backwards by his hair to silence him, so that every single mark Diego left on his last night is on display. Despite his grip on the boy’s hair and his hand around his neck, Klaus’ lips press into a thin line and he glares at Diego in silent rebellion.

 

“It doesn’t matter how I know.” Diego interrupts. “But it’s true. You were diagnosed, what, four years ago? Can’t have gotten much better if you don’t take your _goddamn_ pills.”

 

“I don’t have fucking schizophrenia.” Klaus spits back, taking Diego by surprise with how vehement he sounds. “I’m not crazy. Everyone thinks I am but, Diego, I swear I’m not. The pills didn’t do shit for me, other than make me tired all the time. My parents, they wanna dose me up and pack me off to a fucking mental institution but I’m not sick! Please, you have to believe me!”

 

Diego gets real close, so that their lips are only inches apart and in spite of the danger of the situation Klaus’ eyes flicker to Diego’s mouth. He smirks meanly.

 

“If you’re not crazy then what is it, huh? You just hear voices but you don’t need the meds. Sure, you sound real sane, Klaus.” Diego taunts him. He’s under Klaus’ skin now, knows exactly how things will pan out. Diego will push and push and push him until he snaps, Klaus will get upset, Diego will comfort him, call him a good boy, apologise if necessary. Then Klaus will feel even closer to Diego than before, will tell him whatever Diego wants to know in order to keep being a good boy, and that will be that.

 

As unpredictable as Klaus is most of the time, Diego can always second guess him in this regard.

 

“I don’t need them.” Klaus says, sounding broken. “Please, daddy. I don’t need them, and I don’t know anything about this dead woman. You have to trust me.”

 

That’s pretty much the one thing Diego cannot do. Believe him, sure, but trust him? Diego isn’t sure he knows how to trust people.

 

Even so, he unfurls his fingers from around Klaus’ neck slowly and releases his hair, pets his head a few times until he’s sniffling and curling towards Diego’s body instead of away from it. He’s seeking out comfort and reassurance without asking for it: seeking to be called a good boy and have the sore spots that Diego’s words created kissed better.

 

Diego grins.

 

“Okay, baby.” He sighs, disappointed. “I believe you.”

 

Klaus blinks back tears and looks at Diego hopefully; there’s still a hint of distrust, but only in so far as he doesn’t necessarily believe Diego believes him. He wipes the tears from the boy’s face and rests his own forehead against the steering wheel for a moment, making a split second decision that forces him out of the car. He rounds the car, opening Klaus’ door and shushing him when he makes a quiet, confused noise in the back of his throat.

 

Diego backs Klaus up against the side of the car and kisses the corner of his mouth once, twice. Klaus blushes and looks over his shoulder self consciously: they’re partially hidden behind the car, but anyone approaching or driving past them could see them if they strained their necks. Maybe that’s what pushes Diego to finally make his mind up.

 

“Easy, sweetheart.” He rubs one hand up and down Klaus’ right side, the other going to his cock through the thin material of his new skirt. Klaus is soft - probably because of their earlier conversation - but he gasps and shudders when Diego touches him. He isn’t even wearing any underwear under his clothes.

 

“Diego, what— people might see!” He protests weakly, not doing anything to stop Diego from stroking him off slowly through the skirt. Diego places a finger on the boy’s lips, pushes just the tip inside to rest on his tongue when Klaus doesn’t object.

 

“Wanna make it up to you, baby boy.” He tells Klaus, and even though he’s definitely going to be getting Klaus off he isn’t sure if this is intended as a reward or a punishment. People will see, he and Klaus both know that, and there’s just something about that that scares Klaus but turns Diego on.

 

“But… here?” He asks meekly, like Diego might just change his mind, like he doesn’t make every decision assuredly in advance.

 

“Right here, baby.” Diego nods. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

 

And then he gets to his knees. He hears Klaus’ sharp intake of breath, because even though Diego has fucked him plenty of times now Klaus is still a teenage boy who has never had a blowjob before, and it’s been a long time since but Diego can still remember how that feels. It seems fitting that Diego take that first time from him as well, with his knees in the dirt at the side of a road after making the boy cry.

 

Diego ducks his head under Klaus’ skirt, and it’s sort of like eating a girl out in that it’s just him and Klaus’ cock, hard and eager for him. He feels Klaus’ hands flutter around indecisively before settling on the back of Diego’s head through the clothing. It’s only a light touch though, nothing controlling. Good boy, Diego thinks.

 

He takes his time, because one of the most important aspects of sucking cock is making sure to build up the anticipation. Klaus will be desperate when Diego finally puts his mouth on him, vibrating out of his skin and hypersensitive, so that Diego will probably only have to swallow around him and he’ll blow his load.

 

Klaus moans when Diego curls his tongue underneath the head, lets it rest there for a few seconds before pressing a chaste kiss to the tip. He slides his lips over the head and suckles on the tip for a few lazy minutes, ignoring the involuntary shifts of Klaus’ hips until he can’t anymore.

 

“Diego, please, I can’t.” Klaus cries out. “It’s too much— I’m gonna come.” He’s pulling back, or trying to at least, but trapped between the car and Diego’s mouth as he is he doesn’t have much leeway. Diego pulls off and slams Klaus’ hips back against the car door harshly, holding him there with an arm across his waist.

 

“Stay the fuck still.” He hisses in response. “You don’t fucking move until you’ve come. Understand?”

 

Klaus stays silent and Diego can’t actually tell if Klaus nods or not since his head is still hidden under Klaus’ skirt - which much look a little ridiculous actually - but he does his best to stay still so Diego rewards him by swallowing him down and sucking hard. Klaus lets out a garbled moan and Diego turns his head a little, tries to relax his throat and slides forward until his lips are stretched around the base of Klaus’ cock and the tip is just nudging the back of his throat.

 

“Di— Diego.” Klaus pants heavily, squeezing his shoulders and holding back for just long enough for a shiver to wrack his body. Then he’s coming, hot and wet and sticky into Diego’s mouth. Diego holds Klaus in his mouth until he starts to soften and let out pained, oversensitive little gasps. Diego stands up, takes Klaus’ wrists in his hands and forces them away from his face.

 

He kisses Klaus’ come back into his mouth, shares come and spit between them until Klaus pulls back, breathless with dried tear tracks on his cheeks and come smeared over his lips. Diego kisses him once more, chaste and sweet on the mouth. Then he smiles against the boy’s mouth and nods, not bothering to say anything else as he walks around to the other side of the car.

 

As Klaus is catching his breath outside, Diego starts the engine and grabs his phone off the dashboard, sighing at how the screen lights up with a new voicemail from Eudora. He clicks for it to play and brings the phone to his ear.

 

“Listen,” she starts, obviously frazzled. “I don’t know if I’m grasping at straws here, but a few people around the neighbourhood have reported a pink car and two suspicious individuals loitering outside their houses. I ran the plates and… nothing. No trace of that car ever existing. They’re like ghosts. I don’t know if it’s important or related to this case at all, but we can’t overlook anything, right? Call me back when you get this. Just… bye.”

 

Diego doesn’t call her back. Instead he moves to slide his phone into his coat pocket. Only, when he does so, something solid his his fingers; Diego frowns, only remembering he had been keeping Klaus’ phone in his jacket when he’s pulling it out.

 

And it’s buzzing incessantly.

 

Diego spares a glance at Klaus, but the boy is smoothing down his skirt outside the car and not looking at Diego at all. He has enough time to investigate whoever it is that Klaus has saved as a flame emoji, who’s been sending him increasingly irritated messages for the past hour or so.

 

It starts innocently enough, with, ‘ _Where_ _are_ _you_? _Call_ _me_ _back_.’ After that it develops into angrier texts that Diego has no interest in really, until one in particular catches his eye. ‘ _They’re_ _already_ _onto_ _us_. _Bring_ _me_ _the_ _stuff_ _NOW_.’

 

This is Klaus’ fucking dealer, Diego realises with a start. Klaus is getting messages from his dealer talking about - Diego assumes - the police being onto them. He wants to meet with Klaus. Diego grits his teeth and opens Klaus’ phone. Baby boy doesn’t even have a password.

 

 _‘I’ll bring it to you,’_ he types back _. ‘Meet me at the Roadside Motel, room two in an hour and a half.’_

Then Klaus is opening the car door and Diego barely has time to slip the phone back into his pocket, let alone to regret what he’s done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER BEFORE THE BIG REVEAL (TM) SO SCREAM AT ME ABOUT YOUR FINAL THEORIES!!! <3


	9. Chapter 9

Honestly Diego is too distracted to pay much attention to Klaus for the rest of the drive. He can tell that this makes Klaus uncomfortable - either because he thinks this is a punishment or because he’s not used to being ignored by Diego - but he’s too focused on getting back in time to meet the arrangements he made both with Eudora and with Klaus’ unnamed dealer.

 

He decided against telling Klaus, even though he’d only entertained the possibility for a few minutes, and it wasn’t out of any sense of moral obligation that he’d even considered it in the first place. He wants Klaus to tell him the name of who he’s going to meet, just so he’d know what to expect, but Klaus seems so brainwashed by this person that that would never happen. If Diego told him, he could alert the person somehow and ruin everything.

 

Because the thing is, Diego has no way of knowing if Klaus’ dealer is the murderer. Not for sure. He can suspect - he _does_ suspect - and he doesn’t believe for a second that both victims having the same substance in their bloodstreams that Klaus was handling for his dealer is a coincidence. But he has no proof, and Klaus isn’t going to bite when he has no proof, so he’s going in blind and he’s going to have to ask Eudora to have his back.

 

She will, he knows, because she’s a good cop and a good partner. He wishes he could actually help her solve this case just so that maybe she’d get a promotion and would be able to move out of this place, move somewhere she could actually use her expertise. But until he’s solved this case he can’t do anything to help her.

 

How can he explain this to Eudora? Anonymous tip? He could tell her he has a hunch, but that wouldn’t explain why their murderer was waiting for them in a motel room. And what if they talk about Klaus? If everything goes according to plan and Diego and Eudora are able to arrest this person, they could tell the police everything about Klaus helping them give out the drugs. It would be even worse if they knew about Klaus’ visits to the victims’ houses afterwards, and there’s just no way for Diego to know.

 

He’s in a fucked up situation. He’s just trying to make the best of it, and by ‘best’ he means the outcome that will let him keep Klaus for as long as possible.

 

But that broaches another problem. As soon as this case has been solved Diego is out of here - not even by choice but on command. This placement was only a temporary punishment, and when it’s over Diego will be shipping back to New York. Without Klaus.

 

His head hurts from trying to solve every little problem all at once, and he doesn’t even notice Klaus tugging at his sleeve until he says Diego’s name.

 

“What?” Diego snaps, and Klaus shrinks back in his seat. Diego wants to apologise, but he’s too wound up.

 

“This is the turning.” He explains quietly, sounding like he might cry. Diego looks out of the window and, sure enough, there’s Klaus’ house on the corner with the familiar unkempt lawn and cracked tile roof. He would have just sailed on past it if Klaus’ hadn’t drawn his attention. He swerves to the side and dawdles on the curb, waiting for Klaus to grab his rucksack and open the door. He hesitates before he gets out.

 

“I had a really nice time yesterday, Diego.” He says finally in a small voice. “Thank you for taking me.”

 

Diego sighs. He lets his head hang forward between his arms where they’re stretched out, hands on the wheel. Klaus is so sweetly naive about the real world yet he managed to get himself mixed up in some grade A shit, and how can Diego keep letting him get away with that?

 

“Be careful,” Klaus tells him, but it sounds more like a plea. He kneels in his seat and leans over the control panel to kiss Diego’s cheek softly. Diego turns at the last minute and holds him still with a hand splayed over his cheek, captures his mouth and leaves him with a deep, wet kiss.

 

“Always.” Diego whispers into Klaus’ mouth, slides the boy’s phone back into his hand, and then starts the engine.

 

Eudora is waiting for him outside the station by the time he pulls up. He hasn’t had any time to go home so his bags from the trip are still in the car, but he always keeps his badge and a few knives on him, and Eudora finds him a spare gun from the equipment room in the precinct. She doesn’t ask where he’s been, thankfully, nor why he hasn’t replied to her voicemail. Now for the hard part.

 

“Listen,” He says, grabbing her shoulder to turn her round to look at him. She spins on her heel and crosses her arms.

 

“Diego, we don’t have time for this.” She objects, tapping her feet against the floor impatiently. “Forensics wanted to take the body _hours_ ago, and I asked them to hold off for your sake. It’s hard to get a positive ID on a face when that face is covered in dirt. I thought you wanted to see the crime scene?”

 

“I do.” He tells her sincerely. “But if we do this now we may not have to.”

 

She uncrosses her arms, looking reluctantly intrigued now. “What do you mean?”

 

“I have a lead.” He tells her. “I can’t explain right now, but I think this is our perp. They’re going to be in room two at the Roadside Motel in twenty minutes, and if we can catch them there we can maybe get a confession out of them. We can arrest them for sure. You have to trust me on this, okay?”

 

Eudora looks conflicted, looking between Diego and the room full of officers behind her like she knows this isn’t strictly protocol. Eventually she runs a hand over her face and groans, shaking her head as if she can’t believe she’s really doing this. Diego smiles, relieved.

 

“I can’t believe you.” She tells him, tone not quite bitter. “You really can’t tell me?” Diego shakes his head, trying to portray genuine contrition, and she sighs. “C’mon. We’ll take your car.”

 

***

 

The Roadside Motel is practically deserted, and Diego would be willing to bet nobody has used it in decades for anything other than as a place to bring hookers. Or, apparently, a place to meet mysterious drug dealers. Eudora looks around with a grimace, getting out of the passenger seat and waiting until Diego has locked the car to start walking.

 

“Room two, right?” She asks doubtfully. Diego nods, is about to reply, when—

 

“Say, Eudora.” He catches her attention, low and urgent. There’s a flash of pink to their left and, okay, Diego is beginning to think coincidences don’t exist. “That wouldn’t happen to be the ghostmobile, would it?”

 

She looks over and sees the car almost straight away, exchanging a look with Diego that’s equal parts dread as it is suspicion. They make their way over there covertly, checking that there’s no one in the car at all before they let themselves relax.

 

“How did you hear about this place, again?” She asks, eyeing Diego and the car in tandem. Diego, in the middle of sliding a long, flat knife out of his pocket, just shakes his head.

 

“This car has been showing up all around town.” He tells her, and it doesn’t matter that she already knows because Diego has to tell her this anyway. There’s so much he can’t tell her, but the importance of this is something he can impress upon her. He slides his knife down the side of the window as he talks, relying on years of instinct to jimmy the car door open. “Outside the school, outside Klaus’ house. They know something, Patch. Hate to agree with the townies, but they’re suspicious.”

 

Eudora smirks like maybe she’s about to say something, but then a confused expression crosses her face and she regards him warily. “Why were you outside Klaus’ house?” She asks, and, shit, Diego can’t think of a single fucking thing to say to that.

 

Except it turns out he doesn’t have to, because at that moment the lock pops up and the door swings open. Thankfully the alarm doesn’t go off. Diego ducks inside, muttering a quick, “Watch my back,” to Eudora who complies immediately. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to find, but when his search of the floor and the backseat brings up nothing but a few empty donut wrappers he brings out his knife and stabs it into the seat, cutting it open.

 

“Diego, c’mon.” Eudora urges from behind him. “Let’s just go in and arrest them, okay? We can do this later.”

 

But Diego keeps cutting, keeps peeling back the seats with mounting frustration. There must be something they can use to incriminate them, something that will keep Klaus’ identity safe, they must have left _something_ —

 

His knife catches the edge of something resistant. He pulls back, looking to Eudora with wide eyes before ripping the seat apart and digging it out. It’s a manilla envelope, stuffed full of creased papers with ripped corners. It looks old and well worn, and when Diego brings it out for Eudora to look at as well she mutters, “What the fuck?”

 

The first page is blank, unhelpfully, but the second page is split in half. There are two pictures, one of a woman with dark, dangerous eyes and a sharp haircut, and the other of a man with a scruffy beard and a dopey half grin on his face. Diego recognises them easily.

 

“That’s them,” he points out to Eudora. “Hazel and Cha-Cha? What the fuck kind of names are they?”

 

Diego snatches the folder back and licks his thumb, flicking through the pages with an inhuman speed. The words don’t make any sense, random phrases dotted about like, ‘full authority’ and ‘top priority’ that, when combined, mean nothing to Diego. Then he turns a page, and his stomach drops.

 

“Shit,” he mutters, Eudora leaning heavily over his shoulder to see what has made the colour drain from his face so suddenly. “Shit. They’re FBI.”

 

“What?” Eudora exclaims, examining the seal from behind him. “What the fuck? What are they doing here? Why are they sneaking around? What—”

 

“Christ, let me _see_!” Diego hisses, not wanting to raise his voice in case either of these two hear and come to see who’s broken into their car. He flicks through the pages at breakneck speed, comprehension dawning on him and bringing a sick sense of dread along with it.“Fuck me, they're definitely FBI, that’s genuine.”

 

In the back of his mind Diego registers Eudora’s phone buzzing, the movement of her pulling it out of her pocket to check, but he’s too absorbed in the file in front of him to care.

 

_Codenames Hazel and Cha-Cha. Objective: investigate and arrest drug kingpin Leonard Peabody. If lacking in evidence, match to crimes committed in the state of New York as listed below: murder in the first degree, rape, manslaughter, possession. Alias—_

 

“Diego,” Eudora murmurs. “They got a positive ID on the female vic. Helen Cho— she’s been dead for about two weeks, Jesus. Hey, shit, wasn’t she a chemistry teacher at the high school?”

 

Diego has gone cold all over, and there’s a sharp prickling sensation at the back of his head. He doesn’t need to hear anything else, doesn’t need to read anything else. He already knows who he’s going to find in that motel room, can’t fucking believe he didn’t see it sooner. It’s been right in front of his face this whole time.

 

“ _He’s_   _covering chemistry as well. Our chemistry teacher hasn’t been in for a couple of weeks now_.”

 

“ _If you’re asking me whether I think Klaus is capable of murder, the answer is no.”_

 

Jesus, Diego made it so fucking easy for him, overlooking every clue he could possibly have seen.The symbol written in blood, someone trying to communicate. Knowledge. _Teacher_. The way he was always there, always around: when Klaus was hurt, when he walked out of school, the way he stood up for Klaus when no one else did. Diego should know good things don’t come for free.

 

 _Alias: Harold Jenkins._


	10. Chapter 10

Diego moves first, slinking up the stairs and waiting for Eudora to catch up with him before hovering just outside the door to room two. As much as he strains his ears, it’s completely silent inside and, Christ, he wishes he knew what was going on in there. Whilst he no longer feels totally unprepared for whatever he’s walking into, it’s still not entirely safe and if anything goes wrong, no one will know where they are until it’s too late.

 

This is the price he has to pay, though, so he pays it. His gun is in his hand, drawn up to his chest, and he rests his finger on the trigger even though he doesn’t know whether he’ll need to use it or not. After a brief exchanged nod with Eudora Diego takes a deep breath, and kicks down the door.

 

Almost immediately the room erupts into chaos: the door swings shut behind Diego and Eudora from the force of the kick and closes them into the room. Jenkins - or Peabody, whoever the fuck he is - leaps abruptly from where he’s sitting on the bed, Klaus pressed up against his body. Jenkins has an arm around his neck and a knife to his throat, and Klaus has a bloody nose and tears running down his cheeks. Diego feels his blood freeze, and then boil over, fury overtaking his fear.

 

“Drop the knife and put your hands on your head!” Eudora yells, keeping her gun aimed at Jenkins. He yanks Klaus further in front of his body, and the boy falls into him like a rag doll. “Do it now!”

 

Jenkins, surprisingly, doesn’t. Instead his eyes fall on Diego and he sneers, digging the knife a little harder into Klaus’ skin until blood bubbles up to the surface.

 

“Took you long enough to get here.” He crows, all traces of the nice teacher facade completely erased. He looks feral, eyes wide and dangerous and unpredictable. And he Klaus in his hands. Diego feels unbalanced at this combination.

 

“Jenkins,” Diego starts, keeping his gun at eye level and his arms outstretched. “Or should I say Peabody? Put the knife down. It’s over, you’re over. Let the kid go.”

 

“Oh, he’s ‘the kid’ now, is he?” Jenkins laughs maniacally, and trails the backs of his fingers over Klaus’ cheek softly. Klaus whimpers and jerks in the man’s hold but Jenkins is too strong and Klaus is too delicate. His eyes squeeze shut briefly as the knife forces another trail of blood from his neck.

 

And Diego freezes, because Jenkins obviously knows. He knows about them, he knows about Diego and Klaus, and this puts Diego in a very dangerous situation. Klaus may not be underage but he was still a suspect in the case when Diego started fucking him. He could lose his job over this, all because some fucked up drug dealer couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

 

“Let him go.” Diego hisses, hands trembling imperceptibly as he steadies his aim. “I won’t ask you again.”

 

“When did you realise?” Jenkins asks suddenly, eyes flitting between Diego and Eudora like he’s trying to provoke a reaction from either of them. “Did Klaus tell you? Or did you just figure it out yourself like the stellar detective you are? Can’t be that great, can you, if they sent you here? Klaus never did tell me, Detective Hargeeves, what you did to be sent here. You must have pissed somebody off.”

 

Diego can feel Eudora’s eyes on him, her gaze heavy and questioning. It’s going to be too late, he knows. Even if Jenkins doesn’t just come out and say it, even if he doesn’t tell everyone after he’s been sentenced, Eudora could still put two and two together from what he’s saying now. She already asked outside why he was outside Klaus’ house, and now hearing that Klaus and Diego have been spending time together…

 

She’s a smart woman. She’ll figure it out. She’s also a good cop, and she wouldn’t hesitate to tell her superiors if she thought Diego was compromised. This is assuming Jenkins doesn’t kill the kid first, of course, but it’s starting to look like Diego will be fucked either way. He needs to shut him up.

 

“You were smart, Jenkins,” Diego admits, using the distraction of conversation to inch further to the side. If he can get on one side and Eudora can get to the other they must have at least one clean shot between them, one angle that won’t mean Klaus gets hurt. “Just not smart enough. You have enough people on your trail that it wouldn’t even matter if we hadn’t picked you up. The FBI would have arrested you eventually. They followed you here, did you know that?”

 

Jenkins’ face goes slack all at once, and then just as abruptly fills with anger. He shakes Klaus until the boy trips, so that he has to grip onto Jenkins’ forearm for support.

 

“I get it,” He hisses eventually. “You, what, leech off their work? Some detective you are. Did you think you were just gonna arrest me and it would be that easy? Christ, the little slut’s got you whipped, hasn’t he. You don’t even _realise_ , you’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you. Stop it, Klaus. I said fucking stop _moving_.”

 

Diego can hear blood rushing past his ears, and that was definitely explicit enough for Eudora to understand, but that’s not Diego’s main priority at the moment. His main priority is getting Klaus out of that psychopath’s hands, because right now it looks like he’s having a fucking seizure.

 

It starts off slow, little tremors that wrack through Klaus’ body like sobs. Then he starts shaking harder, trembles more pronounced. His head lolls back on his shoulders and all his limbs go slack so that he slumps in Jenkins’ arms. If it didn’t look like a serious medical emergency Diego would commend Klaus’ quick thinking - dropping to your knees is one of the first things you do in a situation like this to try and take your attacker by surprise - but then Klaus’ eyes roll back in his head, stare completely white and terrifying, and his mouth goes dry.

 

“What the fuck?” Jenkins breathes, and Diego hates to agree with the man about anything, but… what the fuck? Diego risks a glance at Eudora but she looks equally stumped, watching in silent worry.

 

Like it’s happening in slow motion, Klaus head rights itself on his shoulders. He looks a bit like a puppet on a string, motions jerky as though he’s being controlled by some power greater than himself. His head twists painfully in Diego’s direction and Diego shivers despite himself, because there’s something just… _wrong_ , about the way Klaus is looking at him. Looking, but not really seeing.

 

“Klaus?” He asks, forgetting momentarily about Jenkins. Klaus doesn’t react, doesn’t so much as twitch. The whites of his eyes stare unblinkingly at Diego.

 

“Diego.” He says, slowly. Then, “Two.”

 

It’s… strange. Strange beyond words, because though it’s very clearly Klaus’ mouth the words are coming out of it doesn’t sound like him. Or, okay, it sounds like him. It’s his voice, but they really don’t sound like his words and Diego can’t quite put his finger on why.

 

 _Two_ , he said. Two, for Diego. How the fuck would Klaus know something like that? It’s not exactly the kind of thing his siblings would have been advertising when they met up the other evening.

 

And then he collapses. All Diego wants to do is run to him, kneel by his head and shake him until he wakes up. Until he looks Diego in the eye and explains what the fuck just happened, but the cop in him sees an opportunity and he takes it. In the confusion that follows Klaus’ episode Jenkins has stumbled back a few steps to watch in what might be wonder but could just as easily be fear. Diego surges forward and, using as much strength as he can get behind it, kicks the back of Jenkins’ knee. His legs buckle and he falls forward onto his hands and knees, the gun flying away to spin across the floor and eventually under the bed.

 

Eudora, following his wavelength, hurries forward to Klaus’ side whilst Diego aims his gun at Jenkins’ head. It’s over, he thinks, with an emotion that isn’t quite the relief it should be. It’s over - they caught the asshole - so why does Diego feel… unfulfilled? He’s still furious with Jenkins, and the fact that the man thought he could put his hands anywhere near Klaus just enrages him further.

 

Murderer, his file had said in Hazel and Cha-Cha’s car. Rapist. Diego’s head fills with static, blocking everything else out. Next to him Eudora is on the floor, Klaus’ head cradled on a pillow from the bed nearby and resting on Eudora’s knees. He’s deathly pale, but when isn’t he? He looks okay, Diego tries to console himself, but he still has two red stains on his neck: blood running in rivulets down his throat and disappearing under his t-shirt.

 

What would have happened, Diego wonders, if they hadn’t arrived when they did? Jenkins and Klaus were on the bed— would he have killed Klaus? Fucked him? Diego can’t decide which would have been worse. He remembers the other day when he had seen Klaus and Jenkins sitting outside the school: Jenkins’ hands had been all over Klaus, under the presence of a friendly, teacherly check for injuries.

 

Vaguely, Diego can hear Eudora shouting all the official kinds of things at Jenkins that Diego himself should be shouting. “Under arrest for suspicion of murder and attempt to commit murder.” He hears, and she’s right. Jenkins would have killed Klaus— would have touched what was his, would have taken it away.

 

“Diego!” Eudora shouts, and when he looks over Klaus is awake again. His eyes are bleary and he looks tired, confused, like—

 

Like he has no memory of what just happened.

 

“Handcuffs!” Eudora hisses at him, keeping half an eye on Jenkins. “Get the handcuffs on him. Quickly!”

 

Diego looks from Klaus to Jenkins, watching Diego from under messed hair and an inexplicable split lip with contempt in his eyes. Diego is overwhelmed by a rush of sudden, unstoppable hatred for him. Up until now he’s been shaking all over, hands unsteady, but now?

 

His hand is perfectly steady when he pulls the trigger.

 

He gunshot is deafening in the quiet of the deserted motel. It rips through Jenkins’ body lightning fast and sprays blood and other unpleasant substances all over the wall behind him. Klaus lets out a distressed little moan, but it’s the only noise in the room for almost a full minute. Eudora freezes and slowly, slowly like she’s afraid of what she sees if she turns too quickly, twists her head towards Diego. When she sees Jenkins’ body, splayed out messily on the floor with blood pouring from a bullet wound in the side of his head, she sets her jaw and glares at Diego.

 

It’s a neat shot, for how messy it made the floor. The bastard probably died instantly, and it’s better than he deserved, but now Diego has a whole new fuckload of problems to deal with. One of them is kneeling on the floor with her fingers carded through his boy’s hair comfortingly.

 

“Diego,” She says, very evenly. “What the _fuck_?”

 

And Diego’s mind flies back to earlier when he’s been thinking about how much of a good cop Eudora is. Honestly, it’s impressive how closely she sticks to the rules and how dearly she values the law. Like it’s the only thing that matters in this line of work. It’s naive, really, and it’s also very dangerous for him right now.

 

They had Jenkins under arrest - safely, without needing to shoot anyone - and Diego ignored that. He ignored it, he shot anyway, and Eudora saw everything. She’s going to tell their superior officers, probably his superior officers back in New York as well; with his track record they’ll take his badge away from him if he’s _lucky_. Throw him in jail to rot if he’s not. Klaus will be sent back to live with his parents in his boring, mundane life: under-appreciated and never truly able to show his full potential to the world.

 

That’s the bit that Diego keeps catching on, the bit he can’t get out of his head: they’re going to take Klaus away from him. He’s fucked up badly here, and he’s going to lose Klaus because of it, because someone was there to witness him lose control.

 

He’s not going to let that happen. He fucked up letting Klaus out of his sight with Jenkins around, he’s not going to make the same mistake twice.

 

Very careful, very controlled, Diego straightens his arm. He holds up his gun, aims, and shoots Eudora in the back of the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for self promoting _again_ but I thought you guys might be more into it than at cash in?? New fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503632/chapters/43849483) if you wanna check it out!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to post this, but I truly cannot wait any longer :D
> 
> Okay, so i’ve been working on this chapter for... a while? Probably since I posted chapter 1 or 2, and it took a lot of debating with myself to actually keep this, so I hope y’all enjoy.
> 
> That being said, if you did enjoy this and you want to get updates about the sequel(s), feel free to subscribe to the series! <3

Blood sprays over Klaus, tiny splatters of it all over his face. The room is silent suddenly, an all encompassing silence where Diego stands in this mess he’s created and watches Klaus, watches a myriad of different emotions flit across his face. Shock, first of all, empty and blank and then horrified all at once. Eudora’s body slumps forward over him, slipping easily to the ground, and Klaus scrambles backwards and stumbles to his feet.

 

He looks from Eudora’s body, silent and unmoving, to Diego, who is actually in a similar state.

 

“You shot her.” He says, voice small.

 

Diego shot her. He shot Eudora, who trusted him, who had his back, who was a good partner and would have been a good friend if Diego was capable of making friends. And the worst part is he doesn’t even feel guilty. He did it to protect himself - to keep Klaus - and for those reasons he would do it again.

 

“Yeah,” he mutters, already thinking ahead. “I did.”

 

He reaches down to grab Klaus by the wrist, tugging him upwards until he stands reluctantly. He’s shaking all over but Diego doesn’t know whether that’s in response to what Diego just did or whatever phenomenon just happened to him. He has so many questions - and he is _going_ to get answers out of Klaus this time - but not right now. Right now, they have to leave.

 

Diego has to compartmentalise. This motel is falling apart so badly that it might not have security cameras, and if it doesn’t then that’s good. It’ll buy them some time to make an exit, but even if it doesn’t it wouldn’t matter. The cops will show up here eventually, it Hazel and Cha-Cha don’t get here first, and it won’t be difficult to figure out the outline of what happened. Eudora was shot with the same gun that Jenkins was shot with— they never got a confession out of Jenkins, and multiple people saw Eudora leaving the precinct with Diego.

 

They’ll be after him in no time. He needs to get out of this town as soon as possible, and there’s no way he’s not taking Klaus with him.

 

“You shot her.” Klaus whimpers, attempting to pull out of Diego’s grasp. Diego doesn’t have time for this. He’s bigger than Klaus in practically every way, and stronger too, so it’s easy for him to twist Klaus’ forearm and frogmarch him forward until they crash into the wall. Klaus’ front is pressed up against it with his arm twisted behind his back, Diego’s body flush with Klaus’. He leans in close so that he can whisper into Klaus’ ear, so that his stubble must tickle the boy’s cheek.

 

“Yeah,” he hisses. “I did. And now, we’re going to walk out of here calmly and quietly. We’re going to get in my car and leave. We can go to New York and stay with my family.” Klaus’ chest heaves and Diego can tell he’s crying just by the hitch in his breath. He lays off a little, gives Klaus a little room to gulp in oxygen.

 

“I don’t have any of my things.” Klaus protests, voice shaky and thick with tears.

 

“I’ll get you new things.” Diego promises, already thinking of all the ways this could go wrong.

 

“My family are here!”

 

“Fuck your family. You said it yourself, they just want to pack you off to some mental institution. You’re better off without them. You’re better off with me.” Klaus still doesn’t look convinced, so Diego sighs. He squeezes his eyes shut, presses a small kiss to the back of the boy’s neck and says the one thing he knows will make up Klaus’ mind.

 

“I love you, Klaus.” He realises with a shock that it’s true. His twisted, fucked up obsession for this fucked up small-town twink has developed into something much darker, much more dangerous. _Love_.

 

Klaus shudders. Then, “Allison?” Klaus asks quietly, almost hopefully. Diego had actually been thinking more like Luther and Five, but he supposes Allison isn’t a bad idea: if they do come looking for him, his family’s mansion would probably be the first place they’d search.

 

“Sure.” Diego dismisses it. “Whatever, Allison. But come with me now, okay? Klaus, we _need_ to leave.”

 

Klaus’ bottom lip trembles and he sneaks a glimpse of Eudora’s body one more time - she’s face down. Diego almost wants to turn her around and close her eyes out of respect, but he has bigger things to worry about - before nodding. He steps gingerly over Jenkins’ body and grabs onto Diego’s forearm, digging his nails into the skin.

 

“Okay,” He whispers faintly. “Okay.”

 

Getting Klaus to the car is a lot easier than he thought it would be. The boy seems even more malleable than ever, not exactly content but agreeable to letting Diego lead him wherever he wants. Diego is suddenly impossibly glad that they did take his car - he still has a bag of his clothes in the back which is undeniably useful. Klaus slides into the passenger seat; he’s still wide eyed and shaky, face covered in blood, so Diego holds his chin firmly and leans over the console to kiss him.

 

Klaus kisses back with more than a hint of desperation: he kisses like he’s dying for it, opening his mouth wide and wet and messy for Diego to slip his tongue into. Eudora’s blood smears between their lips and over their teeth, and Diego doesn’t bother to wipe it off either of them.

 

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Diego says commandingly when he’s pulled back, reversing out of the parking lot and trying to obey the speed limit on the main road. “I’m going to ask you questions. You’re going to answer. Do you understand?”

 

To his credit, for how shellshocked the kid must be, he doesn’t even bother putting up a fight. He just nods acquiescently and watches Diego with round, damp eyes.

 

“What was that?” Diego asks through a clenched jaw. His hands tighten on the steering wheel and he has to suck in a few calming breaths before he can try again. Klaus doesn’t even need to ask what he’s talking about, because Diego is sure it’s stuck in both of their minds, playing on repeat.

 

“You wouldn’t believe me.” Klaus answers, but it sounds less like a warning and more like a challenge. Diego waits in silence until it’s very clear: he expects an answer.

 

“I’m not schizophrenic.” Klaus says eventually, and Diego lets out a scoff.

 

“We are not doing this again, Klaus.” He starts to say.

 

“No, Diego, _listen_ to me! This is— this is me telling you, okay? I’m not schizophrenic. I hear things, voices, but they’re not in my head. It took me years to figure it out. I always just thought… well, I don’t know what I thought. But then the other day, I heard one. He was speaking to me, just, normally. None of the others ever did that, Diego. No one ever spoke to me like a person. He said—” Here, he glances at Diego out of the corner of his eye, like what he’s about to say will piss the man off. “He said his name was Ben.”

 

Diego stiffens, keeps his eyes on the road, but he can feel goosebumps popping up all over his skin. It feels like his eyes are about to water.

 

“I didn’t understand until later. Until you said, about your brother.” Klaus tells him in a pleading voice.

 

“Are you telling me,” Diego murmurs, low and dangerous. “That you can see dead people? That, what, you’re some kind of fucking seance?”

 

“Not see,” Klaus hurries to elaborate, and shit, Diego is actually fucking believing him. He can’t believe this shit. “I’ve never seen one. Just heard, so far, and— and been controlled by them. That’s what that was, back in there. I think it was Ben. And at their houses: Dave and Xiao. One second I was all there and the next I was at their houses. I think— Diego, I think they were _possessing_ me.”

 

Klaus sits back in his seat, waiting and watching for Diego’s reaction. Diego… doesn’t know how to react. How do you react to something like that? He can’t believe Klaus, because what the kid is telling him crazy, it’s impossible, and yet he does. He believes that Klaus is telling the truth; his truth, at least.

 

He starts to laugh. Manically. When it dies down he’s left with a mounting sense of frustration and pent up anger that he can’t get rid of no matter how hard he tries; Klaus is watching him warily.

 

“Okay,” Diego nods eventually, and he’s definitely breaking the speed limit now. He forces himself to slow down, because they absolutely do not need the cops chasing after them now of all times. “So my dead brother just saved your life, and I killed two people unnecessarily? Awesome. You hiding any other spooky power, huh? Can you tell me what I’m thinking right now?”

 

Klaus winces, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. It would appear he doesn’t take well to Diego’s less-than-well meaning teasing. “I never meant for any of this to happen, Diego, you have to believe me.” He sobs, arms wrapped around himself with his face still speckled with blood. “I never meant for you to be in danger like this, but he was so awful. He was _evil_ , Diego, that’s why I had to do it. You have to know that, I didn’t have a choice. That’s why I had to do it.”

 

“Do _what_?” Diego cries, panic rising behind his temples, burning like an inferno. He slams his palm against the steering wheel once in frustration, before inhaling heavily and watching the road. “Why you had to do what?”

 

And then, in a quiet, teary voice, Klaus says, “Why I had to kill them.”

 

Diego freezes. Very slowly, he turns his head to stare at Klaus, breathless. For the first time in years, moisture prickles the back of Diego’s eyes and he feels… scared. He feels scared. Not of Klaus, and not of himself either, but of everything else. All the endless possibilities that he swore he wouldn’t let happen to either of them; all the assumptions he made about the boy sitting next to him crumble away right in front of his eyes.

 

“What?” He asks, deadly and quiet.

 

“You have to understand.” Klaus whispers, looking frightened. “He was a monster. You think I _wanted_ to deal for him? He said he’d help me get into a good college if I helped him, so I did. But then I wanted to stop, and I _tried_ to tell him but he said he’d kill my family if I did. He said he’d kill _me_. He did awful things, Diego, he _deserved_ to die. I’m glad you killed him.”

 

Diego is too, but that doesn’t change the fact that Klaus just admitted to being a murderer.

 

“Why?” He asks, ignoring everything Klaus just said. “Why would you kill them?”

 

Klaus swallows. “I had a plan. I had a plan, Diego, I thought of everything. Dave was easy; he was already passed out on the floor high by the time I came back. Xiao was a little more difficult: it took… a lot. But I didn’t kill Miss Cho! That must have been him. He— he must have done that before any of this started.”

 

Diego snorts, even though nothing about this is funny. By ‘a lot’, Diego assumes he means he stabbed the man multiple times with various different kitchen knives.

 

“But trust me Diego, I did them a favour! Dave had PTSD, he could barely leave his house. He needed the drugs just to get by day to day; he would have drunk himself to death within three months if I hadn’t done this. Xiao wasn’t married and he didn’t have any kids. He didn’t even have any fucking friends— he would have died all alone in a big lonely house. I spared him that.”

 

God, that’s so fucked up. Everything Klaus is saying is so fucked up, but he can’t think of a single thing to say in response.

 

“But why— what about the symbols and the rituals? What the fuck were they?”

 

Klaus tenses, eyes downcast like he’s maybe a little bit ashamed of this part. “That’s… them. That wasn’t me. They think that that’s how I could summon them, make them corporeal, using candles and symbols and all that bullshit. It was all going fine until he made me drop my fucking ring, and I had to tell you. They wanted to tell you.”

 

“Okay,” Diego inhales. “Okay. So, you killed them. You stabbed Xiao. But what about the different strengths? Forensics said it must have been two different people?”

 

“It was, Diego.” Klaus says reproachfully. “I’m not me when they take over. He was… weaker. He was _dead_ , and he was trying to summon himself back so he could tell the truth.”

 

“But the symbol— knowledge. It means teacher.” And really, what is Diego doing? It’s like he’s trying to find any loophole that will mean the last five minutes get erased and he can forget everything about this. It’s like he’s trying to find, he realises, an excuse for none of this to be real.

 

“Knowledge, Diego.” Klaus sighs like he’s fucking disappointed in him. “It means the truth. I just. I killed them right after they took the drugs. It was a risk that first time - the police in this town aren’t exactly top quality - but then I met you. I knew you’d figure it out, put two and two together, and then you’d come for him. He’d threaten me, probably tell me not to move or he’d kill me. I’d move - just a little bit, just enough for him to react - and then you could shoot him. You could kill him, and it wouldn’t have been a crime. We were so close— we could have just carried on living our lives and no one would have had to ever find out! But then Ben… he ruined things. He ruined _everything_ , and now we have to run.”

 

Diego isn’t even going to comment on how risky that would have been, how deluded Klaus is to think he could pull that off. But then, he pulled all of this off didn’t he? Diego never even suspected a goddamn thing.

 

“How did you know we’d be there?” Diego asks desperately, a last ditch attempt to catch Klaus in a lie. “How did you know Jenkins would be there?”

 

Klaus smiles sadly, like he knows what Diego is trying to do. “I do know how phones work, Diego. If you hadn’t sent that text I would have set up a meeting anyway, told you he was going to be there and then shown up myself.”

 

Diego turns the steering wheel abruptly and the car careens off to the side, almost flying into a ditch with how sudden the movement is. Klaus, who was thankfully strapped in, jerks sideways and flies back, knocking the back of his head against the window with a harsh thumping sound. Whilst he lets out a whine of pain Diego unstraps and leans over, gets his hand around Klaus’ neck and squeezes.

 

“Why not just kill Jenkins, then, huh?” He hisses, getting real close to Klaus’ face so that he’s practically spitting on him. He knocks the kid’s head back against the window again and, shit, he shouldn’t be getting turned on by how erratic his pulse is. By how terrified he looks. By how he’s still covered in blood and his lips are still wet with Diego’s saliva.

 

“With the FBI watching him like that? Fuck no. They weren’t exactly subtle.” Klaus croaks, voice thin and strained with Diego’s hand around his throat. Diego curses.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” He growls. “I can’t believe I actually trusted you, you lying fucking whore. Why didn’t you tell me the _goddamn_ truth?”

 

Klaus’ finger’s scrabble at Diego’s wrist helplessly. His mouth hangs open in a silent scream and his cheeks are slowly turning red. Diego is holding Klaus’ life in his hands right here, could end it in a second without putting himself through any trouble, and yet—

 

“Would you have believed me?” Klaus asks hoarsely.

 

Yes, is Diego’s immediate thought. He would have believed him, because this is the thing. He would believe anything Klaus said. He would do anything for him, kill anyone for him. He is so fucking sold on this scrawny little lying kid, and this must have been what Jenkins meant when he said that Diego was so whipped he couldn’t even see what was right in front of him. Klaus has killed people. Klaus is a spitfire, and a fucking crazy one at that, but willingly or not he gives Diego ultimate control over him. That’s a heady sort of power to have: the type where you can never be sure if your actions will result in someone’s death.

 

He lets go of Klaus’ neck when he realises he’s hard.

 

“I just needed to know I could trust you.” Klaus gasps, crawling over the middle of the console to straddle Diego’s lap, to get a hand on each of his cheeks needily and brush their lips together again and again. “And I can. You killed him for me. You killed Eudora for me: I know I can trust you now. I love you, Diego. I love you, I love you.”

 

He won’t stop saying it and Diego is so hard, so keyed up, has so much pent up energy, so that when he grabs the hair at the back of Klaus’ head and forces him in for a painful kiss neither of them complain. It’s disastrous - much like their relationship - with teeth clacking and lips rubbing together. Diego holds Klaus’ tongue between his teeth, a threat, and Klaus responds by nipping his bottom lip hard enough for it to bleed. Klaus keeps panting the words out whenever he gets a chance to breathe until they fill Diego’s head and he’s dizzy with it.

 

I love you. He can’t remember the last time anyone said that to him.

 

“Listen to me.” He holds Klaus steady with one hand splayed across the hinge of his jaw and the other wrapped around his hip. “We are going to go to Allison’s. We are going to lie low, and you are _never_ going to tell anyone what you just told me. Do you understand?”

 

Klaus nods, lips kiss bitten and bruised red. “Yes, Daddy.” He says in a plaintive tone, seeking approval. Diego can only give it, as helplessly as if he weren’t the one in control. He honestly doesn’t know if he is, anymore.

 

“Strap in.” He says resolutely, looking back to the road. Any one of those cars could be someone out looking for them already, someone ready to drag them both back to town and throw them in prison for the rest of their lives. Hazel and Cha-Cha will be after them almost certainly.

 

The thought excites him.

 

“It’s going to be a long drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love <3


End file.
